I just spent the week down in Princeton helping my 92 year old mother move from one apartment to another, and I foolishly thought I could work in the mornings before I dragged my poor aching body over to help. Silly moi. I had the great treat of staying in my former BIL's mansion while he and his gorgeous wife were off in Europe, but of course I accomplished very little. Seven pages of major info dump (when you gotta get a lot of information across to the reader in a very short time) that I had to then delete and save in a separate file because I belatedly realized there was no way my hero was going to have that kind of conversation with my heroine. He's much too enigmatic.
But then at least I got a decent nine pages the next day. Nine pages in one week with a deadline breathing down my neck is not good.
And when I got back here I was too tired to do more than two pages on Monday, though I redeemed mself with 12 yesterday.
Finally got past page 100. This is so frustrating, because I'm really enchanted with this book, but life seems to get in the way.