It would seem the last couple of weeks have been among the most trying I’ve had in a very long time. Let me explain:
The whole month of June–and the last week of May, I’ll admit–have been hard for me. I’ve found a lot of repetition coming into play–get up, blog, go to work, be bored, come home, eat, chat, write, sleep–and very little else going on, save a movie or two when I’m back at The Real Home. I did get my ears pierced–yes, I did! And the last week I’ve been fighting an infection in the left one, which is really starting to drive me crazy, because I want it to stop!
I’ve still got his crazy thing in my chest as well. I got sick at the start of May, and something has been lingering in my upper respiratory system since the middle of May, making it almost impossible to speak from time to time, and generally being a real pain in my ass, because I never know when I’m going to start coughing so hard that I’m going to feel like I’m blacking out.
Last night was the trifecta of screwed up. I was stressed out from work, I was dealing with my draining ear, and my eyes were watering so badly there were times I couldn’t see the screen. Even wiping them off seemed to do no good; they’ll just film right back up.
I should get into a doctor for all these things, but I’m working 150 miles from my doctors, and trying to find someone here . . . it’s making me a little batty, if you know what I mean.
There’s also this stress in my life. Job is starting to get to me, ’cause I’m spending a lot of time trying to make a program work, and while I know how to do it, there’s just a lot of doubts about whether it will. Don’t need that. the personal life is nuts at the moment; there’s never anything going on here at The Undisclosed Location, and back at The Real Home, there doesn’t seem to be much beyond the routine I had before I started working.
Something else I realized, however, is starting to wear at me as well. It’s The Waiting Game.
The Waiting Game is where you send out a manuscript to be picked over by a publishing house, all in the hope they will like it and decide to publish it in exchange for giving you cash–think of it as being like Aflac, only without a duck. I’m playing The Waiting Game; I’m playing a double header, in fact, because I have two novels out. One went out on the 25th of May, the other on the 10th of June.
Like it or not, the wait is stressing me out.
The one that went out a couple of weeks ago–sure, there’s at least a 90 day waiting period before they maybe even get around to look at your novel. But the one that flew out the door in May, that one is starting to wear on my nerves. I set it out, they wanted to see the whole manuscript, I sent it out a week later, and . . . nothing. Yes, it’s only been 30 days since they got the whole shebang in their hands, but still–I’m waiting.
These writing classes I see advertised all the time, they talk about how to format your documents, and how to determine voice and tense, and all that stuff. What they don’t tell you is how to deal with the feeling that your baby it out there on the streets, late at night, waiting for someone to pick it up, and you’re at home wondering when they hell you’re going to hear something. And how to keep it from affecting everything you’re trying to do in the meantime. Like write another story.
How do you keep it from driving you crazy?
I need some fun in my life, and in a big way. Right now my characters are enjoying themselves more than me, and I’m going to make them miserable.
Who wants to have fun?