Today has started out being one of those days where I think I should have stayed in bed. Not only have I been dragging, but my computer decided it was going to go all Orac on me and be really crappy about coming up right. I started booting this sucker about seven AM, and here it is seven thirty-six. Just remember: I can always replace you, and you can’t tell me to sod off. So there.
Yesterday was a tiring day. I made it through work okay, but the moment I got home I felt like I was going to crash and burn. I really didn’t want to write last night, but somehow I managed to hammer out seven hundred forty-five word and run the count over ninety-four thousand. All this done while I had A Beautiful Mind playing in the background which is a good movie even if there are huge chunks of it that are pretty much BS, and Jennifer Connelly’s character is whitewashed to hell and gone. Hollywood–what can you say?
The mantra is always “Keep Writing”, but that’s always easier said than done. Thursday night I wrote over fourteen hundred words; last night only half that amount. Sometimes the win comes from just sitting down and getting the words out even when you want to kick back and fall asleep in the big easy chair, and you take those as they come, because you know there are better moments ahead when you’ll knock out fifteen hundred words without breaking a sweat.
My mindset is grounded in the fact that I know this will be a long story. Maybe another thirty thousand to finish just the first third, then what? Another two hundred thousand to do the remaining two thirds? Yeah, this is a year-long project, interspersed with moments of attempting to publish some of my slush pile. 2014 is shaping up to become a busy year, and I either get down into the work and do it, or shuffle off to Montana and start a dental floss farm. I’m coming up on two-and-a-half years on this writing thing, and there’s still a lot to do.
I saw a comment on Facebook the other day that asked the question of other writers, “What sort of demons drive you?” My demons have nothing to do with my writing: that’s all me. That’s what I decided upon decades ago. No, my demons are around to screw with my mind, though they’re starting to lighten up on that shit these days only because, much like on Facebook, I pay no attention to their poking. Though if I had to talk about my favorite demon, I’d say she looks like Gabrielle Union, has Michelle Rodriguez’s attitude, and speaks with Penelope Cruz’s accent. She’s pretty nice for the most part, save for those times she goes all Michonne on me and stalks me with her katana.
Seriously, love, we need to work on our communications.
It’s a beautiful day. Cold, but beautiful. What’s a poor girl to do?
Work on her novel. What else?