More writing, more chugging along. 2000 words this day, 200 words the next. I am the picture of sophisticated grace consistency.

As I slog through my WIP, though, I’m forced to think a lot about motivation. What makes a coward (because Levi is) travel across reality and through borders in the fabric of the universe to save someone he has never met? Is the threat of imminent worldwide destruction enough? Would the common man go so far for something so abstract? I don’t know. I really don’t, so unfortunately, Levi doesn’t either. Levi is my protagonist, but his motivation is muddy.

Rhys has a goal. A simple one, too. He just wants his wife back, and probably to murder the person who took her. Clean-cut. simple. Easy?

It all makes me think about my motivation as well. Why a I writing this? Is it because I want to make myself a millionaire by age thirty selling my books? I mean, that would be super nice, but I feel like that sort of goal doesn’t have staying power. I’d like to leave a legacy of sorts for my girls, but that’s a bit self-gratifying. I feel like this is the kind of story I’ve always wanted to read and never quite found, is that a good enough reason? Do I even need a good reason? Is “I need to write” a good enough reason to do it?

Dunno, guys.

But I do know that I’ve broken the twenty continuous pages mark, which I have never done before.

Disclaimer: The book is actually pretty close to done, but usually in five page chunks that would make no sense if you strung them all together. Transitions, man, transitions.


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