The house was cool despite the sun shining through the window. By late afternoon it was usually warm enough to turn on the air conditioning but today I sat at my computer bundled in jeans and a sweatshirt with a cup of coffee to warm my hands.
My fingers felt numb, but that could be because they had been posed in the same position for almost an hour and my screen was still blank. Ideas flashed through my head in a never ending kaleidoscope yet I hadn’t written a single word. I had my current book to finish before I could give in to the temptation of new untarnished ideas. Sadly, finishing my novel was proving more difficult that it should be. My inner perfectionist was getting in the way again. I had already wasted days trying to fix the mess I had made of the plot and now that I had a clear view of where the story was going I was having trouble putting the words down. What if I was mistaken? I didn’t want to spend another week untangling story threads. I wanted to get it done, but I also wanted to get it done right.
With a sigh I picked up my coffee cup, gulped a mouth full of caffeine, and frowned. It had gone cold.