Frantic Activity

At about 3am the wandering what-ifs made their monthly appearance, so I turned on the bedside lamp and wrote a bit, read a bit, then wrote a bit more. Honestly, if I’m going to be producing at this pace, it makes sense for me to use every available moment to scribble. Afterwar tore a hole in me, and the stories are rushing out. The financial awfulness of last year, still reverberating, is spurring me to frantic activity as well. As the meme says, even Shakespeare gotta get paid. Who knows, maybe something good will happen this year.

…yeah, I’m not holding my breath either.

For all that, there’s work to be done until we slide into the abyss. There’s the Veil Knights book to finish and thread in with the others, Roadtrip Z to work on, chapters of a thriller to prep for the agent, the genie-and-accountant story to find a home for, erotic novelettes to write, Afterwar to revise…and some short stories burning a hole in me that I should get done, one way or another, around the edges. Sooner or later something will strike and I’ll be able to breathe again. The shotgun theory of publishing–produce enough, and someone somewhere will take something–has stood me in good stead, and I’m grateful for it. Mostly because if I had to work in an office, or (god forbid) retail, I might have a hard time of it. Really, after more than a decade in this career, I don’t really think I’m fit for much else.

Oh, I’d give it a good go. I’d continue writing, of course not at the same pace, and probably not for publication. Not writing is like not breathing. There’s only been two times in my life the words refused to come, and both were like slow suffocation. (Both times my hair started falling out from the stress, too, so there’s that.) I just wouldn’t have the emotional energy for the screamfest of Festino Lente publishing.

Anyway, there’s a run to get in, a guest post to write, emails to answer, work to do. Miss B is laying across my feet to make sure I don’t forget to take her when I hit the pavement. There was a Squirrel Incident yesterday, but I don’t have the time to write it out for you right now. It involved a very fat Beauregard, Miss B, the back fence, Odd Trundles, and a headless naked female (statue).

Maybe tomorrow.

*zooms away at Quicksilver speed*