Writing Degrees

I'm not talking about my college degree, which wasn't strictly a "writing" degree. I graduated with a major in English with an emphasis on creative writing. I know! A mere eleven years ago... Gah. And I was an "older" student then.

Not thinking about that today. Repress! Deny! Repress! Deny!

Okay. Back to the topic at hand. Now what was I nattering on about...oh! Yes! Writing.

Here's the thing, darlingest. I try to achieve a daily page goal on my WIP. I do. I really do. Yes, it's a wimpy little goal as I cannot write like a mad, possessed thing [coughKarinacough] and produce a full manuscript in 14 days. [NB: Envy is not a healthy emotion. Let it go...let it go....] Most of the time, I try to write before work actually starts and on my lunch break during the work week.

Most of the time, I fail miserably at this attempt.

As a result, a great deal of my writing happens at home. I have tried, oh, how I have tried to write while sitting on the couch, as Roommate watches television. Okay, as I watch television, too. Don't judge me; it sucks me in. On the nights when Roommate is actually allowed first pick of TV shows [i.e., hockey isn't on] I will attempt to excuse myself to my room to write.

Cue Reproachful Look. May I say, this is one of Roommate's great gifts.

So by the time I get to my room and have gently roused my Netbook from sleep, it can be a bit late in the day. Usually late in a long day. But I start out well. See?

This is how it starts. I'm leaning forward a bit, at about 80 degrees. I'm focused. Netbook and I are working together.
Then things slide just a little bit.

Still upright, of course. 90 degrees here. Pretty impressive, huh?

Of course, after a little while, I feel the need to lean back against the pillows. I may have adjust the location of my Netbook, but I'm still plugging along. Or IMing with one of my writing buddies, brainstorming, et cetera. 120 degrees is a very workable position. Comfortable. Relaxed. Yet somehow productive.

Unfortunately, this does not last. Did I mention the really long days? And the pillows slip. And...well...next thing you know, we're at 150 degrees.

I think we all see where this is going. At this point, 170 degrees, I can barely reach the Netbook. My head is propped up on a far-too-squishy pillow. My bed is, shamefully, having its wicked way with me.

And then...

______________._____________________

Netbook is set aside. Morpheus has me in a headlock. All bets are off.

Damned 180.