So I'm a little stuck. Which is to say, in the last eight days, I haven't really written. Good: I'm concentrating on my work. Bad: I'm not going to meet my goal.
I say this with sadness, but not too much, because I've discovered a lot of things about myself in the process. Like how I actually write more consistently if I'm writing longhand. And since I'm writing longhand, I've made it very difficult to delete. Instead, whenever I decide the last several pages were just awful, I write a note in the margin about what should happen there, and move on. Like how I wrote about 10,000 words and then decided I should start my story in an entirely different place. Did I trash that first section? No. It's on the page, it's untrashable. Instead, I wrote a little note, something like "Start here? Flesh out society" and moved on. (See? I've moved on so much I can't even remember what I wrote.)
Anyway, I'm not going to meet my goal of finishing by September 11. 66 pages (out of a projected 350ish) is not a good place to be right now. But in light of my current circumstances, I've revised my goal and am aiming to finish my first draft by the end of September. (That times out perfectly, since I can set it aside and consider picking it back up again on the rewrite for NaNoWriMo. Which everyone should sign up for, if you haven't already.)
So that's where I am, in case you were wondering. Working full time is killer. Again, I must bow down to all those real adults out there who still manage to find the time to write. And read! Yeah, forget that. In my dreams... at the moment, anyway.