After three months of doing nothing but largely fruitless self-promotion for World Leader Pretend, I finally got back to the writing table last week.
Being away from a novel for three months is frightening, because each week away equivocates to about a day of fiddling about trying to recall what the heck one was trying to do with the novel anyway. I ended up fiddling about for the last two weeks–in a maddeningly bored manner–but I’ve arrived at some sort of working outline with which to guide me through. Last Wednesday I started writing again, and although I feel rusty and clunky, a few grains of magic seemed to sift through.