Due to some minor gastrointestinal problems that nevertheless make long car rides currently somewhat chancy, I have cancelled my plans for tomorrow. However, I think that this means that tomorrow pretty much has to be an intensive writing day... especially as the house is more or less clean and it's going to be a day off exercise. And I have looming deadlines on "Mongoose,"
Chill Sanction Chill, and The Sea thy Mistress.
And I really profoundly need Chill out of my life, for psychological reasons, and TStM finished for psychological and financial reasons.
Which means I need to get my rump in gear. Even if I don't know exactly what Tristen's unforgivable offense was. Maybe I can get Dorcas to tell me, since Tristen is clammed up tighter than, well. Tristen. Come on, Bear. It's only another hundred pages. You could do that standing on your head.
Today, there was no writing. There was some proofreading, and there was note-taking for
Chill Sanction Chill, and there was erranding and bill-paying and the washing of laundry. All of these are actions of great virtue, it is true. But they are not writing.
And, in fact, there has been no writing for three days, which is not how novels get finished.
...actually, it often is how novels get finished, especially when you hit the sticky bits and have to walk away and kick things. And I am discovering I very badly need my scheduled year of very light work next year--next year I have to write Grail, it's true, and a couple of SU episodes, and find some fantasy to sell to somebody... but other than that, I'm going to try to limit my involvement in weird side projects. My creativity is pretty seriously overstretched right now, and the well needs refilled.
I can tell we're running low, because I no longer have stuff in the well every time I drop a bucket in. Instead, I have to wait for it to refill between buckets, and that's annoying. Gotta let the water table come back up, or dog knows what I'll find myself writing. But still.
So, yeah. I've been working for seven years straight without a real break. I guess it's time for something like a sabbatical.
Fortunately, I've figured out what I want to pitch for fantasies. (And a utility outfielder to be named later.) One of them is written in draft, one is started, and one is in a world I've been meaning to play more with for some time now. So that's a burden of work lifted. I do need to think about what the next SF project might be, but I have time for that.
And maybe somewhere in there I can find my get up and go again, because honestly right now it has got up and went.
Rewrite The Sea thy Mistress
Revise One-Eyed Jack and The Suicide King
Shadow Unit S3
Sell some books before I starve
When they get done:
Write "Smile" (Bone Garden) (started)
Write "Snow Dragons"
Write "The Horrid Glory of its Wings"
311 miles to Rauros, if you were wondering.
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