Brain Go Boom


Meant to get some writing done tonight but got a few other things taken care of instead. Little writing things that were on the plate that needed clearing. Some nights when I’m already exhausted when I get to my desk, there’s no point in trying to get work done on the book because it’ll all be revealed to be utter shit tomorrow, so it’s better to get other things done. Which isn’t to disparage those other things; they’re just not as…ah, fuck it, it’s a sentence that won’t come out in a way that doesn’t make something look like I just shit it out and put a period on the end of it. Okay, moving along now. Nothing to see here.

I’m starting to get that back of the nasal passage feeling of a cold coming on. Since we’ve all just managed to get over the last batch of bugs, I’m not entirely thrilled to be wandering into another one. One guess as to what I’m not getting enough of? Yeah, sunlight. Right. I doodled the math during a staff meeting today and figured that if I used every minute of every commute and every lunch hour AND managed to find two hours in the evening to work on the book, it would be March before I finished the draft. Which means April before the agents and I settle on a version we like. Which really means, realistically, that I might not be done with this fucking thing by Wiscon at the end of May.

Naturally, this isn’t the attitude to have towards one of your creative offspring. You’re supposed to love it and pet it and cover with it with jam when it gets cold. You’re not supposed to kick it out the door and scream, “JUST GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE HOUSE ALREADY! YOU’RE TOO OLD TO BE LIVING WITH ME ANYMORE.”

I’m just bitter that I realized there is a plot hole in Chapter 7 that needs to be properly filled which means less opportunities for serious x-plody. Want x-plody now. Don’t want stupid plot hole that I made for myself in Chapter 2 to bite me in the ass in Chapter 7.

We aren’t playing well together. Or I’m not getting enough sleep. Probably the latter. I do love my malformed children. Really. I’m not going to break my keyboard tomorrow. Though the ‘A’ is already busted and I have been secretly lusting after a new machine that DOESN’T FUCKING CRASH IN THE MIDDLE OF A FUCKING SENTENCE on me.

Yeah, it’s started doing it again.

I’m listening to Bong-Ra’s I Am The God of Hellfire tomorrow. All day long. My grouch will all be internalized and I will write like my fingers are on fire. Damnit.