Dried pooh on the fire...

I have been soooo distracted lately.

We're moving out of a house with no central heat, into a house with central heat, and that's a great thing.  We weren't going to officially move until we had a refrigerator to put food in, but that idea went out the window when the old house lost power during a brief ice storm recently, so we've been eating out of an ice chest, and I'm okay with that.

So when I go over to the OLD house in the mornings, while we don't live in the 2/3 of the continental US with snow, it's still in the thirties, INSIDE the house.  Which means my first priority is to build a fire.

This morning, I inadvertently put dried cat poop in the fireplace while trying to get a blaze going, and LORDY it stinks now.

Sort of a metaphor for my writing at the moment.

I'm currently working on revisions for my rough draft of Wrecked.  I have three other stories marinating in my brain right now, one of which is ready to get out.  I've got outlines for two of them, just no time to start on them.  I've got to get moved completely, first.

And then I have to help my husband clean and get the OLD house ready to sell.  So I don't really have time to spend all day, or even more than an hour at a time on my laptop.  Which means I certainly can't start a rough draft of something new.

I have Falling for Hope with my editor, and My Mistake with betas, and at this point in my writing process, I'm usually working on a rough draft, while Wrecked sits on the back burner.  But I can't do that, because I don't have time to work on something new.

So I'm trying to force myself through Wrecked, in an effort to stay productive with my writing, in some way.

It's not working.  Wrecked isn't getting any better, and everything I add/change is making me need to add/change something else.  It may end up being better in the long run, but at the moment, it smells like cat pooh...