1. It's hard to write without a designated workspace. I had one for a few days, but the confusion of various moving times, furniture selling, etc, made it go buh-bye. I've been a lot more finicky and fidgety and less productive since then. I'm hoping that moving into the new apartment, getting all of my furniture from P-town, and setting up my own special workspace will get me back into a comfortable routine. Somehow, I have still been getting some writing done, but I definitely haven't been hitting my 500-words-a-day mark. Sometimes I get close to 300, but other days all I do is dink around with formatting.
2. I really like rituals and routine. They help me work. I also like to make soup when I am mad stressin'. Chopping vegetables is therapeutic.
3. Formatting sections of my serial in Publisher and making them into PDFs is remarkably emotional. Instead of staring at Yet Another Word Document, I find myself looking at pages of something that looks like a book. So rather than feeling like I'm sending out one of my college papers, I feel like I'm sending a genuine product to genuine investors (albeit non-monetary investors--they're investing in my future by giving me moral support. I will beg them for money later).
4. I never want to work for The Man again. Every day, I feel a complete range of emotions (some of them more pleasant than others, of course), I dress however I want, I cook when I need to mull over ideas, I go on walks, I do complementary art projects, and I talk to Daniel whenever I need to (about anything from my newest idea, to his own work, to something dumb on the internet)--I do all of the things I love doing, and there is no crappy numbness. Yes, I still get frustrated, but it's not at incompetent managers or projects that don't make any sense. I'm not wasting my brain power on filing cabinets and inner-department diplomacy. I do not have to be docile. I can be my totally manic self all the time. If I'm feeling mentally cluttered, I can sit upside down on the living room couch and look at pictures of fennec foxes on the internet or use a nerf gun to shoot VR into the wall with suction-cup darts while I ponder things. You can not do these things in an office.*
5. I am really happy. Terrified and electrified and utterly happy. That feels like a pretty good sign that I'm doing the right thing for myself.
*that I am aware of. Maybe if I was a Google exec, but with a BA in English, that is unlikely. Also, I don't want to be an executive or manager of anything but myself, so, for me, this assertion is probably correct.