it's a great life, if you don't weaken (matociquala) wrote,
it's a great life, if you don't weaken

Get behind the mule

So I went to work this morning, through the magic of DayQuil. Gooooo orange nasty stuff. My job involves an awful lot of watching and listening to television and radio news, and in case you're in the US and wondering:


Anything else will depress you to gnawing your fingers off. And then you won't be able to push the buttons to change the channel and you'll be really stuck.

I seem to be writing three books at once--The Stratford Man, A Treachery of Princes, and Scardown. I'm getting all of them in dribs and drabs, a scene or an image or a character at a time, slowly, as I poke at them. As long as I get my thousand words a day (1,000 and change on Treachery yesterday, 400 and change on Stratford) I think I should be happy. On the way in today I figured out the next scenes in Treachery and Scardown.

They may not be ripe yet, but maybe I can do a little tomato-in-the-paper-bag-with-the-peaches-trick and get them to ripen up a little faster.

I'm going to have to learn some new techniques. The books I wrote last year were all outgrowths of stories that had been stewing for many years: Stars since 1994 (with elements dating back to high school), Hammered since 1995 or so, Bridge/Shadow since 1991 with elements going back to junior high. Sea and Bound were newer stories, but they also grew out of the creative fugue that gave me Stars: they came from the same pot of soup.

Can't make a career out of binge-writing five books every ten years. :-)

On the other hand, I think I somehow got the idea that I should know where these books are going and how they get there, and historically, that's not something I ever figure out until I have 30K or so down on the page and all the threads cast out. Not sure where I picked this up, but I've been able to write blind in the past and pull it off, so I don't see why it's fretting me now.

Maybe because I feel more comfortable with the actual writing now, and I'm thinking less of that and more of the actual story, and it's worrying me.


Fret less. Write more. Otherwise the guilt monkey will get me. 700-lb guilt gorilla, I got.

The good news is, I'm doing better at being happy with a sustainable output. Getting less obsessive about producing stories. The bad news is, that makes the butt-in-chair harder (especially coupled with the full time job), but it is healthier in the long run.

Besides, ain't nobody gonna buy five books a year, and what kind of a life is that anyway?

Just singing along with the soundtrack in my head--

"Gotta get behind the mule in the morning and plow."

Probably no rejects this week. Probably a buttload next week. Film at eleven.

  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 1 comment