This must be come kind of record for me. Since Friday night I’ve gotten a good night’s sleep every night. Not only that, but I was in bed pretty early both Friday and Saturday nights.
Something is telling me something.
Ever since starting the “real” job in January, I’ve been running about like a madman. During the week I’m up at any time between 4:30 and 5:20 in the morning, and I get on and write my entry for the day. (For the record, it’s 5:46 AM right now.) Then I get ready for work, go to work, “work”–yeah, I know how that sounds–come home, eat, chat, write . . . and before you know it, it’s 11:00 PM and I’m ready for bed.
When you throw in a two and a half to three hour drive every Friday and Sunday afternoons, then you are setting up for some serious tiredness.
Even though I still got work in on the new chapter in Couples Dance, it felt like struggle. Last night it took two hours to get 1150 words down. It might have had something to do with not really knowing what to write, and I was sort of skipping along the path of, “Oh, look! This happens,” as I was writing. A lot of times I usually have some idea of what I’m going to write before I write it, though . . . well, that’s not always the case. It could be my mind playing tricks on me.
My friend, Katherine Gilraine, herself a published writer and blogger, yesterday wrote a post on the pricing of ebooks. While it is a great post–Katherine is a great writer–it makes a very good point about how insane the pricing of ebooks can be, she makes a very good point about those of us who decided we wanted to be able to write “Writer” on our 1040′s at the end of the year (I’ll have to check if the IRS will allow, “Semi-crazy Penmonkey” as a legitimate profession), she points out something else that I have said as well: writing is work. It’s hard, baby, it’s hard. Yeah, you might only spend a couple of hours at the computer (in my case) actually writing something down so that, after a period of time, you have something to toss to the masses, but you’re always, doing research, be it making notes, or looking up something on the internet, or every working on something in your head.
I did that yesterday. During the drive to The Undisclosed Location, the traffic was very nice, and because it was nice I was able to keep the cruise control on nearly the whole time, and that meant I could let my mind wander just a bit. And I talked out a scene that could, eventually, end up in my one-of-these-days story about Annie and Kerry. I’ve been getting into Annie’s head, and this scene I worked out–yeah, I thought about it the entire drive. Two-and-a-half hours. Oh, and I was talking it out between the characters the whole time.
Yes, I’m strange. I never said otherwise.
Actually, there were four of us in the car, because The Muse was along for the ride, giving me the eye, making sure I went in the right direction, and kept the conversation on the characters at hand.
There is some mental weariness going on, I know it. I’ve been pushing myself pretty hard since last July, and there is a lot of work ahead.
But this is what I decided I wanted. This is what I said I would do, and I’ve been doing it for almost a year. And even after I get published–then what? Kick it down to the Bahamas and sit on a beach for a while? Not me, man. Maybe go hiking in the mountains and give myself a heart attack, yeah–though I would love to do a week at The Stanley Hotel. Redrum, bitches!
And what I’d do if I went to the Stanley for a week? I’d work on ideas. I’d work on stories.
I’d have my computer and I’d probably start writing.
In between the screaming, of course . . .