And half the time I have no clue while I'm writing the dialogue what the characters are on about, and then I have to figure it out. And you know, I think it's mostly pretty good, especially after I go back and make it less dream-logic and more like real life. Um. Real life with necromancers, I mean.
Then again possibly I'm deluded and it's all pants. PANTS!
This is very much how I used to do everything. It's a little like being me, ten years ago, except my verbs are better.
...and, well, pretty much everything else is, too.
If this keeps up, writing might get to be fun again. And then where will I be?
I wonder if this is unconscious competence? Is it possible I've bloody well learned how to write and now I don't have to do every single picky thing consciously?
That'd be nice. Because there does come a time when you want to quit micro-steering the car and worrying about it every time you need to start on a hill... and just be able to drive somewhere and be confident you will make it, and it will be interesting and fun.
I'm not counting my chickens, though. It's possible I'm just getting sloppy and self-absorbed and have quit learning anything new.
Hah! Forgot to post that last night, apparently. Well, you get it this morning, with tea.
Tea today: Upton rose congou
Teacup today: Japanese one from SF, with mysterious words on it
And now back into Too Many Necromancers, now with shinier orbital mechanics. I'm going to hit the halfway point today, and I'm so freaking stressed out and anxious that I'm not sure if it would be better to take a day or two off, or just push through and finish the thing so I can collapse until mid-May sometime. There will be time off when this book is done. At least a little.
I like to bank all my days off and take them in great big chunks, what can I say?