Anyway, I got a bunch of what I think is pretty good work done on "Ballistic" this morning. Though I'm starting work up a real good case of deadline frets over it, most of what's left to do isn't mine, and what is mine has to wait until we have a nearly-complete complete draft, so giving myself heart palpitations over it not being finished is not doing me any favors. (It's not that anybody else is falling down on the job, I hasten to add. It's that I come over all German about deadlines, and want things done a month before they're due. So, yeah, I'm also fretting painfully about Chill, because I would in an ideal world have liked to have a draft by now. And then there are these two other projects, the Sebastien and Abby novella and the New Secrit Projekt novelette, which are also weighing on my mind.)
And the Hell & Earth and All the Windwracked Stars page proofs haven't arrived yet, so there's a certain air of waiting for the shoe to drop.
However, comma, what with one thing and another, I think I have the decks cleared through I-Con, except for a couple of obligatory evening engagements, so maybe we can get some writing done.
Except for the part where I really, really don't feel like working any more today, and the cat and this sunbeam are conniving to convince me that what I would really rather do is nap.
Ah well. There's what we want, and then there's what they pay us to do.
And right now, what they pay me to do is to write eight pages a day of this b%#k. So graciously or ingraciously, it's got to be done.
And then I can play guitar and go climbing, afterwards.