Last night wasn’t bad. It was a bit tiring, but not bad. I saw the story expand, but I was just a touch short of the nightly goal, only hitting about nine hundred words before saying the hell with it and heading off tot bed. The mind wanted to work, but I was getting hung up on something, and I couldn’t seem to get the words out that I needed. Not so much writer’s block as it was my brain saying, “You know you’re going to screw this up if you try to write it now, right?” Right. So I was happy with what I’d put down, and slinked off to bed.
Today will be one of those busy days where I’m doing a bit of running around, but I’m not actually getting anything done–at least none of the stuff I want to do. I have writing to do, but I’m going to have to fit my thousand in wherever I can find it, ’cause I don’t think I’ll have many opportunities to write today. Which is a shame, because my mind has been nagging at me since before I work up.
I was having a lot of strange dreams, one of which seemed to do with trying to pick someone to take over an open superhuman opening, hanging with Brad Pitt, and telling someone who I worked with that their manager was a ninja doucherocket, and had been ever since I’d worked with them at my last job. Then I woke up, and The Muse was there, bugging me. (Should note, my Muse is not the same as the muse I’m writing about. The muse in my story is a real goddess; I’m the only one who thinks my Muse is a goddess.) What was she bugging me about?
No, not the sort of time we all waste like crazy, but time like one would encounter if you were time traveling. There’s a simple explanation for this. During the week I was sick. Monday I was out of it, but Tuesday I was so down that I had to stay home and crash and burn. But since last Sunday, when I started coming down with this (now, I hope) dissipated cold, my mind has worked. What else is it going to do? I’d love to be able to shut it off, but I can’t.
So, in that time, I came up with two stories revolving around my Transporting series, which I’ve yet to public, but will. It seems like a strange thing to come up with more stories for that series, because I’ve already written four novels and one novella for it, and I have–wait, let me bring up the document . . . eighteen more stories to write. Two more would bring it to a very neat, round twenty stories, and it’s not like I have a lot to write already, but, really, do I need more?
To show you how caught up I am in this stuff, I pulled up the timeline I have for the stories–because they cover a lot of time–and realized I didn’t have the reign of one character down in my time line. So there I go, having to fix things. Now I have the character accounted for, I have my timeline fixed–
Save for these two stories the Muse is bugging the hell out of me over.
Since I have time to kill before I get out to do other things, I know I can add those stories to my time line, and get my descriptions down, indicate when they’re going to happen . . . yeah, I keep track of all the stuff. Because I think I can actually get all this stuff written in the next twenty years.
I probably can–
If I get to work.