I’m writing constructing another novella. This one on the history of Port Phillip as told by research into a sea monster. It’s fun. It’s not literature. It’s not even great story telling. But I’m having fun. It’s also so easy to think and rethink every little thing without making forward progress. Progress in the form of pages and chapters. Work product. Not meta work product. I must remind myself to get down the first draft as fast as possible.
