I completely vegetated yesterday. I mean, completely. I read some more of Divine Intervention (I'm a little more than a third of the way done) I'm trying to retrain myself to *read* instead of edit.
Somewhere in the last three years, I got in the habit of reading every single word of every piece of fiction I encounter. This particular bad habit, while I'm sure it's taught me an enormous amount about writing, has also dropped my page-per-day capacity from something like three or four hundred to, oh, about thirty. Which is bad news for (a) my to-read pile (b) my research reading (c) my tolerance for finishing books (d) my ability to keep up with genre and (e) my ability to read and annotate manuscripts for my crit buddies. So I'm trying to learn to read all over again, just like in first grade when I started recognizing words as words and not as collections of letters to be sounded out.
I imagine it's something like what a stroke victim goes through, in terms of retraining, although (obviously!) on a much, much smaller scale. Very frustrating, but I think I'm making progress.
No fiction words yesterday. At all. Not even just playing writing for fun words. I must be in serious burnout. And I'm cool with it.
No end of novel ennui and existential angst yet, though. I must be even gladder to see it gone than I thought. Still suspect I may need to Do Something to the end yet, but we'll see.
Cool rock they found out on the edge of the solar system, what? It's making neo_inbound kind of cranky and hubbletelescope is stoked.