March 1st, 2010

writing gorey earbrass unspeakable horro

someone's always coming around here trailing some new kill

Apparently mother nature checked the calendar, because it's definitely March out there now. Cool--not cold--moist and windy this morning. The GRD and I managed a long walk this morning, three and a half miles.

In other news, I still have no brain. I shall be working on my book review column until I grow one, or until it is done.

The nice thing about the 27th round of post-novel ennui is that you know what it is and what to expect, and that the enthusiasm and creativity will resume eventually. It had better resume by the time I'm back from Tucson, anyway, because the novel's due April 15.

Still no sign of the itchiness to do work, though. My head feels a little less scraped out at least, but it's not yet full of juicy goodness. I refuse to fret about that, though.

Nothing's got to get done this year that I haven't managed before.

Back to my reading now.

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    Amie Mann - High on Sunday 51
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writing softcore nerdporn _ heres_luck

there are times when i feel i rather not be the one behind the wheel

All right, I think I have a plan.

One of the problems I've been having lately is balancing all my various work-related obligations, more and more of which have absolutely nothing to do with putting words on paper in the form of a story.

So I'm going to try a new thing. Which is, more or less--starting tomorrow, between 9 and 1 I will be writing fiction. I will not be answering email, blurbing books, critiquing anything, reading anything, blogging, writing reviews or essays, maintaining message boards or answering comments, working on shared-world stuff, reading slush, editing, or doing anything except drinking tea and telling stories. (I reserve the right to hang out in my online writing group, because with the exception of tanaise, who is The Devil, they can be counted on to keep me on task.)

I am carving out this space in my life to tell stories, dammit, and all this other shit that needs done in any given day can just go hang for four hours. If the world explodes because an email doesn't get answered, well, bill me.

During the rest of my workday, I will do Other Tasks. I will not be required to write, except when the spirit moves me--if I am really inspired, I will not prevent myself from writing. If all my friends are writing, I reserve the right to write socially.

The 9-1 segment may be am or pm. I may timeshift it as necessary given other commitments. I also reserve the right to take days off, something I am notoriously bad at. (Hey, I lasted seven days this time!) I am also not required to write at conventions or workshops, because those are enough work all by themselves.

The other things, which do not involve quite so sustained a frame of attention, can be taken care of while multitasking. Writing really should not.
comic tick ninjas hedge

my camel looks so tired. it's hardly worth my while.

NB: One scallop, torn into pieces, makes a satisfying appetizer for two cats.

I am writing a book set a thousand years in the future. Do I actually believe that our modern-day theory of mind and mental illness will hold any water then? No, of course I do not.

Do I have characters blithely going on about sociopathy anyway? Yeah, I do. Because I'm translating from Future!Talk into modern English, or something. Well, I'm not inventing Late Postmodern English in a month and a half.

Anyway, 900 words. Going to bed now, because I can't keep my eyes open.
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    Dire Straits - The Man`s Too Strong (Radio Paradise - DJ-mixed modern & classic rock, world, electro
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