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bear by san

March 2017



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criminal minds reid yes i'm a genius

this summer i heard the drumming

Ahh. My neck has finally noticed that the guy who was belaying me on Sunday let me drop about seven feet the first time I fell (intentionally, so he could practice catching me). Owie. Hello, mild whiplash.

The things I suffer for my art. Platypus, I hope you appreciate my sacrifices.

I dunno if my brain is growing back at all yet. I feel like such a slacker, currently--there's so much I could (should) be working on right now dammit, and yet, no work is happening. You'd think I could at least be reading a book or making some coherent use of my time but really all I'm doing is litening to the brain squirrels, trying to defend as much alone-time as possible while still being available to my friends and family (and cat), and playing Bejeweled while watching old Mission: Impossible episodes. I'm still dying over the one where Jim Phelps is the honey trap. I had forgotten Jim was willing to peddle his body for his country.

Also, Anthony Zerbe is following me. He was smouldering rather unsettlingly at Martin Landau in one of last night's eps, and I'm pretty sure he was (uncredited) in last week's SU. He's another one of those actors whom you recognize, and even kind of like, but can never really believe it's him when you see him. Although with that nose and voice--

For those of you haven't experienced post-novel ennui, it's very like the sensation one has after finishing a thesis or an enormous project bid or finals week or getting married or shooting a movie. It's such a long, sustained, multivalent effort that it just leaves you kind of scattered afterwards. Scraped out, a little hollow. I am a leaf.

And I keep thinking, but I didn't write a novel last fall. I only wrote one book in 2007, and it was done by April! Why am I feeling like this? Doesn't the story engine know i have deadlines? Hello in there, story engine! Wakey wakey!

But of course, I did write a novel--or half of one, anyway, and collaborations really are not appreciably less work than writing a book alone. Just much more fun. So Refining Fire counts, and I should give myself credit for it--and man, was that book emotionally exhausting, for reasons that will (assuming all goes on schedule and according to plan) become plain to you all while I am at WisCon and unable to enjoy the reactions. (coffeeem, shetterly, you guys get to revel in them for stillsostrange and truepenny and me.) 

And before that, I rewrote All the Windwracked Stars literally from scratch. From the word go. Which should probably count as writing a novel, honestly. And before that, Dust.

And in between, I wrote several short stories, and I revised Dust and All the Windwracked Stars and Refining Fire, and I did (heavy, exhausting) revisions on Ink & Steel and Hell & Earth, and I wrote several long novelettes or short to medium-sized novellas--"King Pole, Gallows Pole, Bottle Tree," "Knock on Coffins," "Overkill" (which still needs revised) and "Bone & Jewel Creatures." (which still needs revised. And actually, most of the climactic scene written, but damned if I know how they're getting out of this one, or even if the last half of the story is any good.) And a significant amount of notfiction, too.

So I look at that and think, Bear, honey, I realize that you tend to try to stack yourself up against jaylake and mizkit. But you can't. The fact that that's a trivial exercise of words for them doesn't mean that it is for you, and you have a right to be tired. You did a heaping year's work in 2007.

You were a brave and mighty Bear who has slain many words, and you, you know, can give yourself a break.

The guilt gorilla, though. She never listen. She just fuss at me and say, "Why you not working, monkey??? You ought to be WORKING!" She's nearly as pushy as the cat, that gorilla.

And then there are those ticking deadlines.

All right. On that note, I think it's time I folded the laundry that's hung up all over the apartment, drying, and took a shower and made some tea. And played some more Bejeweled or something.

God, I get so bored when my brain is full of empty like this.


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You did a heaping year's work in 2007.

I don't think any of us who were watching actually came away with the impression that you'd been slacking, y'know...
The gorilla insists I did hardly anything at all. :-P

Yanno, that gorilla? Hates me and wants me dead.

(I might be less stressed about the deadlines if the various delivery/publication/signing checks I am waiting on would come in. It's lovely getting paid for work one did in October in February, you know?)
*Looks at Bear's output. Looks at two novels, a novelette and a couple of short stories. Hides under desk.*

God, I get so bored when my brain is full of empty like this.

*Offers Bear flask from underneath desk*
*g* An I look at Jay, who can write 14,000 words a day, raise a child, and hold down a job... and I think "Where did I go wrong???"

*Crawls under desk and hangs out*
Sometimes I try the "go somewhere else" method. It doesn't have to be far, just a neighborhood you haven't explored, for an entire afternoon or even day. Riding the bus there is good, so you can look out the window. New stuff goes into the head.

For me, I need a massive introvert fit, I think.

Except the part where I like all the things I do with my life and do not wish to not be doing them.
Word count shmerd count. You get a hell of a lot done. If it helps, I am deeply envious of your publishing list, and don't really expect to ever be able to catch up to you.
Hee. We all measure ourselves against the other guy, and none of us ever measure up.

It's an illness.

*snuggles up and has a nap instead*
I was wondering where I'd caught my current case of "brain is full of empty, " which has as its primary symptom that I cannot get a cottonpicking thing done unless it requires no brain input or output whatsoever. Now I know. Maybe I can whip up a brief scientific paper about my discovery that Brain Full Of Empty Syndrome is contagious via the Internet...

While I'm here: I agree with the rest of the crowd that you did a humungous amount of excellent work in 2007.
I didn't know I was contagious! I'm sorry!

(and thank you. It is a good thing to hear.)
I keep telling her that.

And she keeps whining about how bored we are.

Are there no internets? Are there no flash games? Are their no piles of unread books and unwatched DVDs? Is there no guitar, no baby to play with, no gym? Is there no algebra book?

Really, GG.

If this game was merely about word count I would be champ.
Hands down.
Well me, and the other folks subject to fits of hypergraphia.
But it ain't.
Bear's got skillz. Mad skills yo.
Hee. Still trying to recover from a three-year fit of hypergraphia, really.

Best. Coping. Mechanism. Evar.


I thought Internet puzzle games and dvds of old TV shows sedated guilt gorillas. Have you tried doing both at once?

Of course I am getting the impression that your guilt gorilla is of the King Kong variety. Mine is more like that Taco Bell monkey.

Re: Hmmm

My guilt gorilla is grape fucking ape.

Current sedation routine is TV, internet chatroom, hanging out on the SU boards, and bejeweled simultaneously. :-P Also, hitting refresh on LJ a lot.

And being avoidant about my email. *g*
<leaves banananas stuffed with Valium out in the path of your guilt gorilla>
Oh man.

it could work!
I blame this totally on the counting rhymes they have over on the open thread at Making Light:

Ebear met her deadline,
She curled into a ball,
Then she told the PC
“I don’t feel well at all.”

The PC called the doctor,
The doctor called the nurse,
The nurse called the lady
With the alligator purse.

“Cotard’s Syndrome!” said the doctor,
“Chlorosis!” said the nurse,
“Post-novel ennui!”
Said the lady with the alligator purse.

“Site Enhancement Oil!” said the doctor.
“Cloverene salve!” said the nurse.
“Take a long hot bath!”
Said the lady with the alligator purse.

“Osopophagism!” said the doctor,
“Karoshi!” said the nurse,
“You’ve been working hard!”
Said the lady with the alligator purse.

“Yin!” said the doctor,
“Yang!” said the nurse,
“Take a walk!”
Said the lady with the alligator purse.

“Hyperekplexia!” said the doctor,
“Hikkomori!” said the nurse,
“It’s just the guilt gorilla!”
Said the lady with the alligator purse.

“Moxibustion!” said the doctor,
“Bezoar stone!” said the nurse,
“Go out and build a snowman!”
Said the lady with the alligator purse.

“Taijin kyofusho!” said the doctor,
“Stendahl syndrome!” said the nurse,
“This happens every time!”
Said the lady with the alligator purse.

“Powder of sympathy!” said the doctor,
“Theriaca andromachi!” said the nurse,
“Watch some more old spy shows!”
Said the lady with the alligator purse.

“Black oil!” said the doctor,
“Lurgy!” said the nurse,
“Your brain’s just tired!”
Said the lady with the alligator purse.

“Havidol!” said the doctor,
“Pieditra negra!” said the nurse,
“Time for a nap!”
Said the lady with the alligator purse.

“Cynanthropy!” said the doctor,
“Susto!” said the nurse,
“It’s finished project syndrome!”
Said the lady with the alligator purse.

Diarrhodon! Said the doctor
Cephalic spices! Said the nurse
Check into martial arts!
Said the lady with the alligator purse.

“Dyscrasia!” said the doctor,
“Cacochymia!” said the nurse,
“We’ve been here before!”
Said the lady with the alligator purse.

“Diaculum!” said the doctor,
“Catholicon!” said the nurse,
“Go have lunch with Mr. Earbrass!”
Said the lady with the alligator purse.

The PC bit the doctor,
The PC scratched the nurse,
The PC purred for the lady
With the alligator purse.

Left went the doctor,
Right went the nurse,
Home went the lady
With the alligator purse.

I realize it's not likely to be helpful.
I'm not sure you can jump rope to it, either.
Baby, I'm willing to try.

Thank you so much. *g* I dedicate my next Bejeweled high score to you.
Stupid gorilla.
It occurs to me that the gorilla is, after all, a large monkey. Clearly a job for cat.
My version of the GG insists that the moment I finish anything writing related, I must at once do 108 things for other people (because Writing Is Selfish).
...and I look at your writing output with envy, so it's all relative.

I'm off to Arisia this weekend, but anytime after that when you need a recharge let me know and we'll go butterfly spottin'. They are lovely this time of year (-:
Have fun at Arisia!

I think recharging, right now, means a little more time in my hole with the lid pulled shut--but nutterfly spotting is definitely a possibility.

How long does the exhibit exist?
Looks in booklist at all the eBear books. Looks at broken checking account. Tells Guilt Gorilla it can go take a nice long nap now.
ehe. *g*
My guilt-gorilla has been taking steroids lately. Right now he's trying to convince me that I'm a slacker/completely useless/never manage to get anything done because of my failure to create eight hours of tape yesterday - in four free hours. Because somehow I should arrange to have the rest of my life just stop if something needs doing.

Maybe your guilt-gorilla and mine should wrestle. It might keep them occupied.
They might make baby guilt gorillas. Then where would we be?
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