I am still (yes, still, how long has it been now?) stuck on that last scene (One. Last. Scene.) in "King Pole, Gallows Pole, Bottle Tree." Which means it did not get finished tonight, though there was lots of futzing about on the internets and general time wasting. (On the other hand, I wrote about 1600 words of nonfiction today, and did a whole bunch of other stuff, including web page maintenance and correcting a small itty bitty insignificant timeline flaw in the Secrit Projekt and so forth, so it's not like I didn't earn my keep.) I am in that frustrating stage where I really feel like writing, and I want the cookie of finishing a story.
I think I'm going to bail on climbing tomorrow and stay home and have a major three-day introvert fit and read books and goof off and see if that clears out the noise in my head enough to get some fiction-related work done, because hello with the overscheduled.
And if perchance this story and the other story *did* fall out of my head, then maybe some of the other stuff I have been asked for would follow.... and I could be like, edging up to caught up coming into January. And Chill. Which I fear.
The annoying side product of wanting to write and not having anything to write about is that I'm bored. And it's one o'clock in the morning. I would just go to bed, of course, but since I've been moderately insomniac the last few nights (and am not right now sleepy at all), that sounds like a recipe for tail chasing.
Well, hey, I wanted to read Carmen Dog, didn't I?
Also, this is just to let you all know that while I, for one, welcome our new Russian overlords, I've also started using this livejournal archive tool, and it wurks gud.
330.3 miles to Lothlorien.
Maybe the cat will be entertaining tomorrow and I can tell you about that.