December 16th, 2009

drive train _ netcurmudgeon

i need a verb

First, in one week (more or less) we have new mid-hiatus Shadow Unit content--Sarah Monette's Very Special Holiday Episode, "On Faith." Yay!
Tea today is Roibos Pretoria (the last of it; time to shop for more--in the Mythical After Time, anyway: see below.)
Teacup is NPR's "Wait Wait Don't Tell Me"
Temperature this morning was 26 degrees. Would have been colder but I slept late.

Today, I am as bereft of ambition as it is possible for me to be. But I have a plan! A kind of overarching plan. My plan is to get to page 200 of Grail, which is, after all, only 23 pages away, and then take a couple of days off. After that, I will revise The White City and finish "The Unicorn Evils" with coffeeem and "The Forty Times Forty" and turn those in. And then I will come back and finish the second half of Grail, which might go more easily than the first half. (It often does.)

Then truepenny and I will write A Reckoning of Men, and I will write "Spell 81a" (with stillsostrange) and "Ligature" (all by myself). And then I will write The Steles of the Sky and these various short stories I owe. The space opera and the vampire thing and the other thing.

And today may be a writing-and-paperwork day rather than a writing day, as I have somehow again accrued an awful lot of paperwork. Although what I really want to do is drink tea and look at the Seeds of Change catalogue.

There. Plan. Now to start it....

In other news, jmeadows is evil and wicked. She's trying to convince me to take up spinning, you see. (I used to embroider. I do not knit. Or crochet. I cheerfully wear nice things that other people knit or crochet for me, however, so the idea of spinning for friends is not beyond possibility.) I keep telling her that my poor guitar needs me, and I do not need another expensive time-consuming hobby, but then she shows me things like this, or this. And I am sore tempted.

Thankfully, all discretionary purchases are on hold until the mythical After time ("After Tor pays me") and so I am safe. For a little while.

And maybe by then the urge will have passed.
writing dust rengeek shakespeare

you're looking at a permanent hurt

1700 words today, when I had only promised myself 3 pages. I'm pretty pleased with that--and I got it done fast, by my standards, though not by those of people who write fast.

That brings us to a nice 37,000 words, and 185 pages. Maybe two more writing days to a vacation. OMG. (Yeah, my vacations look like other people's weekends. Such is life.)

It's very good to be back in the saddle again. I haven't written a whole new book since Chill, and it's amazng how much of my self-identity is locked up in being somebody who produces new novel-length stories.

Now, I get to eat some lunch and drink some tea and goof off until it's time to go climb. Then I shall come home and work a bit more, I expect, until Criminal Minds. The last new one for a while.

It's almost the end of the Naughties. I still have hopes of making the decade name catch on. After all, once we're out of it, we'll need something to call it....

(Yes, I know technically speaking 2010 is part of the same decade, but functionally? It's not. Nobody refers to 1970 as "the sixties." The map is not the territory, and trying to make the way people interact with reality conform to an ideal results in such crowning successes as, oh, Esperanto.)