It’s Friday morning. Very early Friday morning, in fact. 4:54 AM as the clock on my computer tells me. This means one thing: it’s going to be a long day.
Friday is Travel Day. I leave The Undisclosed Location and head back home, a journey of about 150 miles–or 242 kilometers for everyone else in the world who isn’t living in one of three countries were Imperial Measurement is still king. It’s always about a three hour drive, which means I should dub my care The Minnow, or something along those lines.
I have so much to do this weekend. Yes, I know about those query letters . . . *hangs head*. Oi. What can I say? All those shiny things on the Internet are controlling my mind again. I can to that realization last night when I was actually trying to write something new, and I couldn’t get it started because I had too damn many things drawing my attention, and of late I’ve been worse than a hyperactive 6 year old who ate a dozen sugar cookies and washed them down with Red Bull.
The mind wanders, and I’m looking for . . . what? Can’t tell you, but I know this has been my worst week for writing. I can tell by the blog, because this last week has been My Most Uninspired Week. Yes, that needed to be put in caps, because it’s important.
This week nothing has come to me. The rudder done broke and I got no way to steer this damn thing. It feels horrible, too, because I feel the floundering, the inability to write a line, then look around and say, “Hey, I wonder if there’s anything good over on (enter name of website here)?”
The discipline has waned just a little–more than just a little, but it’s still there. I am still writing, though it’s just not coming out at white-hot speed right this moment. More like dribbling out in a very thin, semi-interrupted stream of words.
Enough of this shit.
Tonight I’ll get some writing in. I’m on the final edit of Her Demonic Majesty, and I’m being quite honest when I saw, it’s very good, and I’m getting it a little better. Last night I edited the chapter where I finally get Jeannette and Diana together, in bed (yeah, sort of like that), and before I was finished with those two thousand, or so, words, I’d added another one hundred to the mix. Tighten here, lose some words there, and rewrite where necessary. I’m actually loving my NaNo Novel, and I don’t know if that’s something I’m suppose to do–if you create something, aren’t you suppose to hate all the misery and agony it puts you through? I’m confused.
Tomorrow I’m going to start plotting out Diners at the Memory’s End in Scrivener tomorrow. I need to do this because this story requires something to happen at a particular time, and Mr. Anal Me, I gotta know if the time I’ve picked out for said event actually occurs when it should. Not that it matter, because it’s going to happen, but . . .
There are other reasons to plot this out as well, because I need to know that time flows the way it’s suppose to flow. That’s how I am with stories, particularly my stories that require events to happen a certain way. So that’s up.
And perhaps . . . I’ve got two other stories in my head that need Scrivener setup as well. Maybe three. I know that for one of them, I imagined I was having lunch with Kali at Panara’s yesterday, so that should tell you how my mind is working. I’m working on scenes for a story–or I’m having a nervous breakdown. Flip a coin: either result is likely valid.
Time to get serious again. I’ve been sliding since the start of the month, and May shouldn’t be that way. May should be a time to kick ass. I should be kicking ass.
It’s time to get back on the crazy writing train.
‘Cause who the hell wants to be stuck in in this goddamn Lodi forever?
