I never make New Years resolutions, 1) because they're generally unkeepable and 2) cause they're just so...I don't know...I guess "stupid" is the word I'm looking for.

But this year I made one, though I didn't call it a resolution, I called it a promise. A promise to get more words on the page and to, in general, work harder writing-wise. And part of that don't-you-dare-call-it-a-resolution promise was to get up early (5AM) every weekday morning and work on my novel for two hours before I went to work. Well, you can guess how well it went. A couple of weeks in, and I gave up, not so much because of the early hour, but because of how damned cold the room with the computer was and how warm and snuggly my bed is.

But this past week, I've finally been to be able to break through the resistance. This week I've managed to get out of bed every morning and crank out at least 2 pages every day. And even though it's not the best stuff I've ever written, and even though I'm only just starting chapter 4, I'm actually beginning to feel like I'm making progress on this monster instead of the horrible running-on-ice sensation I always get whenever I sit down to confront "The Novel."

This morning, in particular, was a great writing experience and really made me wish I had more time to keep working, too. This morning I killed a character. A minor character, yes, but in the two short chapters he was sort of marginally in, his presence was meaningful, which, in turn, made his death meaningful (or at least, that's the theory.) Plus, it was a bloody, painful death and, coincidentally, right in my horrified, spoiled-brat heroine's lap, and boy if that isn't ruining her day. Ha! It's fun to be a writer.

And all before 7 AM. Take that, Army guys!