513 words on Hell & Earth today, which were mostly turning some expo into an epistle. Now I have to figure out how to repair this great big patch of suck in the middle of the book, and then there's a smaller patch of suck at the end of the book that also needs fixed.
The big patch of suck is harder, because honestly I glossed over a bit there because I have no idea how to make it work, and my editor called me on it, as is her job.
Problem?
Still no idea how to get there. Also, a case of terminal lazy punky donwanna post-holiday exhaustion and brain-death seems to have me in its throes, and writing, right now, is notso attractive. Still, part of being a professional is writing the fucking thing even when you don't want to. And when it's done, I can hand it in, and maybe Jessica will give me the nice delivery moneys and I will not have to eat the cat come January.
In other news, I provide really high-quality SO material for my characters, if I do say so myself. I think my author should get on the stick and send me some, just to make sure the karmic balance is maintained. Alas, I fear that I am in a literary novel.
Unfortunately, lately, it seems like all the cute ones are either taken, or made of fiction, or very far away. I'd consider getting my sex drive turned off, a la Bruce Sterling characters, except that doesn't do anything for the hair-petting deprivation.
I wonder if I can get a boy who's made of fiction sent to my house to pet my hair.