On Monday, I added net 8k words to The Maiden’s Blade in the process of getting the last third revised. Yesterday morning I finished a few small detail bits and sent the whole shebang off to my editor, who was no doubt relieved that I hadn’t run away with the manuscript clenched firmly in my jaws never to return.
I mean, I thought about it, but the prospect of carrying that 180k motherfucker for even a mile makes me tired. I spent the rest of yesterday doing errands and staring at a Resident Evil movie or two.
Today I am a bear of exceeding little brain, and will be folding laundry or doing other chores that don’t require much in the way of decision-making. I am all decided out, my friends. And tomorrow I move to the next thing on my list–revisions on the next Steelflower book.
No rest for the wicked or the weary, but there might be a day of little brain to perform all the minutiae of daily life that adds up when you spend weeks buried inside an epic fantasy. Things need to be dusted, hoovered, washed, dried, put away instead of just in a pile. The dogs, no doubt, will be very interested in the process, and Sir Boxnoggin in particular will want to help.
He is a dog of Very Much Help. If his nose isn’t in whatever you’re doing, just wait thirty seconds. Miss B, today, is a Dog of Very Much Herding, and she is nipping at Boxnoggin’s heels to induce him to be Even More Helpful.
…I’m already tired. Maybe I should go back to bed. Except then the dogs would pile on, and any rest I achieved short-lived indeed.
Onward and upward, my friends. Onward and upward, over and out.