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bear by san

March 2017

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bear by san

You can't call Hell a quiet town

Weird thing.

I was just talking with katallen about that thing I call postnovel ennui--that bizarre feeling that I (and apparently she) get when the draft is finished, where it feels as if all these characters with whom one has been sharing headspace for so long have packed up and cleared out, leaving the screen door banging in the breeze.

And I realized that maybe it's necessary, that emptiness and abandonment, because it's one of the things that lets me go back and take a real good clear-eyed, hard-edged look at the draft without a dozen characters going I WANNA live five-year-olds to confuse the issue.

In other news, I spent most of the day working on the syndication project, and mostly got no new writing done--



One-Eyed Jack

New Words:: 488
Total Words:: 35,784
Reason for stopping: Something is about to happen
Mammalian Assistance: Love from just about everybody, mostly in passing
Stimulants: Diet Coke with lime
Exercise: nothing much
Mail: nomail
Books in progress: Joan Aiken, Castle Barebane

Comments

Plus, writing is like exercise and about everything else. After an overload, the body needs time to rest and heal and assimilate the change to increase fitness. If you just keep pushing, or your creative processes keep pushing, eventually something breaks. There's a rhythm to it. At least that's how it is for me; when I push hard on a project, I need to take time to let the dust settle. If I don't, usually my creativity helps me take some time off by being uncooperative. =) I find I'm stronger afterwards, though.
The post-novel ennui thing is different than burnout, though; it's this sensation that this huge, consuming thing that's entirely dominated one's life is just... gone.

Pffft.

Burnout happens too (and I get it, oh God) but it's not that sensation that I just got fired from my job AND my roomate moed out.

Actually....

Hell (Michigan) was a _very_ quiet town, back when I used to live about ten miles down the road. One gas station, no bars.
You know, nothing ever happens in Sodom, Connecticut, either.....