One of the reasons I wanted to hook up with a critique group is that I wanted a reason to regularly produce stuff. For the group. Oh, I've produced stuff since last time, but nothing the group (because of its parameters) would be interested in reading.
I'm not bitching about how and why I couldn't. You can read the other blog for that. That's not even the point.
The point is that instead of furthering work on the various unfinished projects I have listed on the sidebar today--well, okay, only one of which is suitable for the group--do I pull those out and work on them? Hell, no.
What I did was delve into the journal and reworked some pages I wrote one early morning during our camping trip last week. It would've been last Sunday, around 7-ish, sitting with my back to the sun, facing into the treeline surrounding the area where we had our campfire.
I've got five pages of the best "shitty first draft" I've ever written. It's not a complete piece; hell it's not even all of Act I. But I'm pretty happy with the progress. I just wish I could shake out a little more of the story, but I spent a fair amount of time working out some of the major beats. I know exactly what the story's about and how it's going to end (more or less).
Maybe I'm not so unprepared, after all.