I think I reached a personal best today with regard to fitting writing in under unusual circumstances.  You see, I had a new patient appointment with an allergist today, and hit on the idea of bringing my laptop along.  During time spent sitting around waiting in the doctor’s office, I managed to write 1,711 words!

This probably says something unfortunate about the efficiency of the medical profession, but just this once I was feeling it was time well-spent.  It’s not the setting or circumstances I would choose to write under–but I’m feeling rather proud of getting good writing in during adverse conditions.  And it feels very NaNo to persevere along under slightly ridiculous circumstances.

I was all ready to explain to the medical office staff that I was busy writing a novel, but no one ever asked.  Ah well!

I also did my more usual writing on my lunch break and at home tonight, rounding out the day with 2,597 words.  That gives me a comfortable cushion of 1,071 words for tomorrow, when writing time may be scarce–no appointments to write during!

Have an excerpt, straight from the doctor’s office. 🙂

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Erik was not entirely sure how it became a habit, inviting Meg to visit him.  He wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened the first time, a sudden impulse that had seemed like a good idea at the time and then, astonishingly…continued seeming like a good idea.  It was just so much easier, so much less risky than remaining aboveground where the wrong person could come stumbling in at any moment.

Though he never would have guessed that he’d describe letting someone else into his private refuge as “less risky.”  But after all, Meg was…well, she was…well, she wasn’t going to go haring off to Mifroid, he felt confident enough about that.

Meeting in his apartment also offered a new, alternative diversion, and he didn’t mean the coffee.  One day midway through a conversation about the distinction between Mozart and Wagner he quite naturally went up to his pipe organ and played a brief portion of Mozart’s concerto for two pianos, possibly playing slightly more than was usually done by only one person in that duet.

“There, you see, Wagner would have given this a completely different tone,” he concluded, turning away from the keys only to realize her eyes had gone a little wide.  He shifted, tugged at his collar with one finger, and she still hadn’t said anything.  “Is something wrong?”

She started, blinked, said, “No…  I just—that was very good.”

“Yes, I know,” he said automatically, realized a half-second too late that wasn’t etiquette, and quickly added, “I mean, thank you.”