Very tired this morning, though I slithered into unconsciousness relatively early last night. It was a relief to go through the proofs for this particular project and find out that despite everything, I still think it’s good. (Parts of it might even be damn near lyrical.) I keep reminding myself that the trouble elsewhere wasn’t the fault of anyone I personally interacted with, just institutional neglect and corporate shenanigans.
Yet it’s still difficult. I’m going to have to paste on a smile and forge gaily forward (as we used to say in high school), which is a skill I have lots of practice with. It’s just…I was so excited to write these books, I loved them so much. It hurts. And there’s still the last one to get through.
No wonder I’m crawling into a portal fantasy and pulling the wardrobe door shut behind me.
I ran out of oomph last night and sat staring, fingers poised over the keyboard. For a vertiginous minute or two I thought I’d been betrayed by my own brain and the words had dried up for good, but then I realized I’d been going at it since 4am, a lot had been accomplished, and all I needed was a bit of rest. The relief was almost as sharp as the fear.
Thankfully, after taking Boxnoggin outside for his first morning loo break I could fire up the ol’ desktop while Boris the Coffeemaker burbled, and the words are still waiting for me. I was just too exhausted to receive them last night. And no wonder–2k in the portal fantasy, 1k on another project, and ~200 pages of proofs? That’s a good day’s work no matter which way it’s sliced.
Today is another push to get at least the bulk of the proofs done, and I need to get the portal fantasy’s protagonist to the eerily abandoned gothic village. Might even throw in some clockwork zombies for fun, since the big suits of armor stomping around on their own (with horned helmets!) aren’t terrifying enough on their own. I mean, they’re plenty scary, especially since they bleed reddish oil, but they’re not quite enough. I want a whole lot more AUGH at this particular point of the story, and it’s about time for the poor protagonist to be getting some answers.
She won’t like them, but that’s a whole ‘nother ball of wax.
Maybe today I’ll do proofs first and keep the portal fantasy as a reward. One thing I won’t do, though, is look at the news. My nerves can’t take it, and the AI/LLM/plagiarism machine apologists in my mentions don’t help. I am blocking with a quickness now–not that I’ve ever been slow about it. Well, maybe back in 2007 or so I’d feel a twinge while slamming the block button, but I’m wiser now and have little time or patience to waste.
I should probably go through my inbox too. It’s a mess in there.
In other words, Tuesday is shaping up to be more Monday than anything. Maybe I should just throw up my hands and go snuggle Boxnoggin a bit; he’s taken himself back to bed to prepare for the rest of the morning. He’ll be discomfited at the change in routine, but he’s not one to pass up affection and a bit of chest-skritches.
True canine wisdom, that.
Once more into the breach, my friends. If I am thorough and quick I might even clear the proofs and have the rest of the week for this poor protagonist and her various psychological coping mechanisms when faced with fairytales brought to vivid, murderous life.
Nice work if you can get it, and all that…