Writing in head

I have written to the end of my outline. Which is an interesting phenomenon, depending on whether it happens at the end of a book, or in the middle. I am speaking of the latter case, of carefully following the bread crumbs of my story then stooping to pick up the next and finding the space vacant. I was somewhat busy this week and weekend, but I slated the time well in advance. I did everything except check the outline. When I got to it, it had one sentence, a short one, which was a stab that I took over two months ago about where I would probably be now. I wasn't wrong, but there also wasn't much to the sentence, just a flimsy and vague idea. I could've written, but there would've been no understanding of where I was writing to. So, I backed up, and am going back to work on the outline. On the plus side, the re-write continues to feel like a sounder idea. The story feels more full.

I also didn't see my colleague to talk about how his dissertation is developing, on account of the holiday weekend. He did text me to say how excited his committee is about his outline, as well as his mentor. I wasn't sure if he meant that they were thrilled at the content of his story or the framework of his outline. I assumed it was the former, however much I have been surprised at how different the academic process is. He told me again that I could market myself as someone who assists others with such things. Among other items, I will be looking into that this week. I couldn't hurt to know more, right?

What I did do was hike. Twice. And if you knew me personally you would understand what a big deal that is. A friend went with me once, and he told me, in response to all of my grumbling and whining, that I had maybe romanticized the activity, and that while there were beautiful scenes and fantastical moments, it was still hard work. Which I never got from other people who "love hiking." Because it is hard work, and I did romanticize. There was very little of the calm moments I imagined, none of the opportunities I'd have to mill through stories in my head. No, I was very much focused on not tripping and falling, and not getting lost. I still got lost, too.

I got my first review for the prequel story I wrote that I posted on fiction press. The person seemed interested in the rest of the story, and was certain that there was more to the story. I took that to mean that for that one person, it was a success. A show I started watching recently insisted that if ten people read a work, they will come away with ten different ideas. I'm not sure if watching it will be good for me. The characters are likable, but they experience an unrealistic amount of success, and the show montages past all of the hours and days and weeks and months of soul grinding effort that it takes to earn those rewards. All signs point to my living between those nicely cut scenes for more years yet.