Having trouble sleeping — more accurately, having trouble feeling rested. Zero energy. Unfinished stuff at work piling up like crazy. Difficulty concentrating.
As if that weren’t enough, I *bit* myself on Sunday. Now there’s a chunk of flesh missing from the inside of my right cheek and it hurts like an S.O.B.
This doesn’t help either.
Can I please get off the treadmill now?
I’m writing again, after a dry spell of over a hundred days. No, I don’t mean blogging. Blogging may be many things to me, but I don’t consider it “writing”. I mean my actual writing — creative works I hope to publish someday.
Maeve is now at 28,0000 words. Not bad for a 10,000 word short story. Ah, well… only 1 major and 4 minor scenes left to go now. Another 8,000 to 10,000 words, max. How much you choose to trust that estimate is entirely your own decision. This time last year I was confidently telling people that the *whole* *thing* was only going to be as big as the amount of work I have left to do now. I wouldn’t be surprised if some wag starts a betting pool regarding whether I’ll top 50k before the end.
I’ve been working hard on it, adding about 1,000 to 2,000 words every night for the last number of days. I’ll definitely have something to show at the next reading night.
Which brings up a point. I produce an average of 200 words per hour. Yep. 200. I didn’t miss a zero there. This means I have to work 5 to 6 hours a day if I want to clock over the 1k mark. This is an incredibly slow rate of production compared to *other* *people* I know.
But that is just the way I am — Mr. One Paragraph Per Hour.
There is an entire school of thought out there that says “just get the words down and edit it later”. I call this the “we’ll fix it in post” mentality. It obviously works for other people, but in my case it is pure, corn-fed grade A bullshit. Even when I participated (successfully) in NaNoWriMo, I had to slog along for 6 hours every day to achieve the required average of 1667 words that would net me my 50k by month-end. I’m a very deliberate writer.
Some people write like they’re playing Jenga — just stack it up any old way. I can’t do that. It’s more like Tetris for me. Every sentence must interlock with the one before and be the right shape for the one that follows or the whole thing doesn’t work. I can’t simply skip an awkward phrase or substitute a lame metaphor. Instead, I’ll sit there for minutes at a time searching for the right word, the correct turn of phrase that will move the scene forward. If someone were to film me in my office, they’d witness about 20% typing and 80% staring off into space.
Rather like many cubicle workers, I imagine.
My only consolation in this (and it is a big one) is that most of the people who’ve read the first drafts of my work tell me that they are impressed by the quality of the writing. Which makes me think I’m doing something right.
So I’ll keep slogging away, and with luck this “little” story will be finished soon. Maybe before I hit the 50k mark.
It has been 125 days since my last post. So sue me. Should any of my millions of sycophants take issue with my posting frequency (or lack thereof), all I can say is: If the scraps of my life on display here aren’t enough for you, I suggest you go get one of your own.
How’ve I been? Just fine. Simply dandy.
November: Father-in-law has stroke that puts him in hospital for two weeks.
December: Same father-in-law, recovering from stroke, occupies my spare bedroom until three days before Christmas.
January: Co-worker gets H1N1 flu and is off work for two weeks. I work like an S.O.B. trying to keep up.
January: Wife has mis-carriage. ’nuff said there.
February: Life’s shitty. Let’s run away to Cuba for a week of sun and sand. Cuba experiences all-time bad weather. Out of 7 days: 2 days sun, 3 days rain, 2 days overcast & windy. Snorkeling and boat tours canceled due to 20+ knot winds.
March: Co-worker (the same one) suffers from immune system collapse. Will be off work for god-only-knows how long this time. Me left doing the S.O.B. overtime shtick again.
As usual, the only bright point in all of this is Mrs. Angry. Marrying her was the best thing I ever did and is probably the best thing I ever will do. How can you top perfect?
