Yesterday I focused nearly exclusively on writing, which meant that I worked on writing for four hours. They were a good four hours. I edited, I looked for agents, and I did some work on Areia. It was really good stuff. I even got chores around the house done, errands elsewhere completed, and I exercised. It was a red-letter day...or it should have been. I got to the end of the day and felt like I'd failed. I hadn't found an agent (yes, yes, I know; one day of searching and my novel wasn't sold yet. Even I knew I was being a bit dramatic.), I hadn't created the perfect ending for my novel that would make readers' hearts swell with happiness and their fingers itch to reach into their wallets to buy the next one, and I hadn't worked for five hours (which has been my goal). Lucky Cody got to talk me down from that dramatic emotional maelstrom.
Today, I researched agents and general after-a-novel-is-finished stuff for an hour and I'm jazzed.
There's no figuring it out.