Rut. That's it. Full stop. Can't even think of a good way to start this. Well, not so much rut I suppose as...maybe it is rut. What else do I call it when I can't find a word for what it is that I'm trying to name without using the word "rut."

For a week's worth of writing I don't exactly have a lot to show for myself. I have half a dozen starts. Starts are good, in that they eventually lead to finishes, but getting to the finish is rather difficult when one doesn't have at least a cardinal direction.

So far I've got a young girl planting a fairy garden, a guy trapped in a selkie's skin (still working on how he got in there in the first place), a fox eating Chinese take-out while waiting for a train, a bird with ten eyes perched on the finger of a man with not-quite sky blue hair, a metally underdeveloped cannibal sailor were-sea-lion (yes, you read that right), and a doll with a broken eye. I've got the starts, or the near starts in the case of the selkie fellow, and that's about it. It's rather irritating to think about. At the very least somebody could emerge and demand my attention but they all seem perfectly content to keep to themselves and be meddled with when it suits my whims, which are becoming less productive if all I am coming up with is more starts.

Starts are good. But of course they are! But I have more than enough of them at the moment, thank you. It's about time I made some progress beyond 300 words and got at least to a half-way point or two, or at the very least to a different fork in the road than the one I've been looking at for the last week.