That's what my writing has felt like the past week or so. I'm getting close to the end and I really want to get this thing finished over the next few weeks but I can't seem to regain any momentum. Every word feels like a struggle. I'm happy with what I get down in the end, but it is beginning to feel like I'm not getting anywhere. The light at the end of the tunnel is blurred. Maybe I need to work on it in the evenings a bit longhand, just throw some scenes down on paper and see where it gets me, instead of staring at the computer screen in the morning wondering how best to get where I need to be going.
On a brighter note, my brainstorming session with Maxx on Friday night was very productive. I came up with some great ideas for the subplot on Book 2. I still need to work out some kinks and figure out my heroine's GMC, but it's starting to shape up.
And after a week off from working out due in part to sore knees and general laziness, I am back at it, still determined to whip my butt into kickass shape in time for my sister's wedding in September. I ordered the dress on the weekend with this strange determination that alterations would be required, regardless of the cost. Then I went to the mall and found three pairs of shoes I want to buy, even though none match the dress.