Last night's wordcount, a bit under 700 words. I knew where I was going, but was getting bored while reaching that point, then...well, I was almost there, but could tell the situation I'd created wasn't working. Drifiting off to sleep, I figured it out: the pov character was far too comfortable for the tension I needed. I can move the food paragraphs rather than cutting them, and work from there.
Tonight, writing will battle with the need to do some cleanup in my apartment for a friend who's visiting this weekend. I will have Saturday to write, though.
It's time to start slashing away personal committments. I remember this from before. I can't produce vast amounts of wordcount while being pulled in more than one direction by Life. Life must go on hold, as much as possible. I have to delve into the inside of my skull.