…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 I’d continue writing, of course not at the same pace, and probably not for publication.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).
*zooms away at Quicksilver speed*