![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Hooo boy.
I always crash after I finish a book. The progression of the book goes like this: Research/prewriting/plotting and setup and such--can take years. Actual writing starts very slowly, a page, two, three, five at a time, feeling my way into it. This goes on for about 100 pages. There may be several changes, rewrites, some bits thrown out and others added. Around page 100, the book starts to come alive and the pace picks up. It's still relatively slow and may struggle a bit as it gets to the part I call the muddle. Then that sorts out and we're in the homestretch. There's usually a stop here to do final revisions of the story so far, proofread it, clean it up, sort out any remaining gaps or problems. Then I outline the last bit (usually a quarter to a third of the total), sometimes in detail. And that's the starting block for the last race--the mad blitz to the finish, which can run up 15, 20, 25 pages a day, in a white heat, until it's done.
That's my routine. It's fallen into place over the years and it works for me. A particular requirement of the final blitz is that it be done in the bunker as we put it--with as many distractions as possible shut out, larder stocked, daily crap minimized, and the decks cleared for action.
This time I didn't get that. I got Refi From Hell and monster stress on top of the standard end-of-book stress. I kept on slugging, in fact it was an escape from the other garbage, but I was pushing the limits and I knew it. But it had to be done.
Today, as was to be expected, was Crash Day. It's always Crash Day after a book gets done, hardcopy hits the PO, e-copy lands in editor's Inbox. My mind is still spinning on the hamster wheel. I can't believe I don't have to get X number of pages done today Or Else. I'm having an awful time giving myself permission to do nothing for even a couple of days, since I have Stuff backed up and must do much much more before I get a real break. Add in the three-month habit of intense stress, to the point that relaxation doesn't seem possible at all, and life is interesting.
However the body politic has its own view of things, and it is completely tapped out. I slept most of today, except for occasional crawls out to the barn to do necessary horse chores. Capria was snorked that I didn't ride her. I was supposed to ride her! It was on the schedule! But she has to wait. I don't usually pay much attention to the fibro/CFS thing, but right now it's saying, "Er. ExCUSE me."
Crash Day. Oh yes.
Thanks to all who offered hugs and support.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lynnesite, I think you've got it--Pooka's chariot has to come from book money. That's the way the karma works.
There's a discussion of fantasy burnout coming, but I need to de-burnout my brain cells first. Also a cool contest to end the month over at Luna, but that has to wait another day as well. I have no working synapses.
I think I must give myself permission to Do Nothing for the rest of the weekend. It's haaaard, she wailed. I have so much to dooooooo!
Hamster. Wheel. Spin spin spinspinspin.
I always crash after I finish a book. The progression of the book goes like this: Research/prewriting/plotting and setup and such--can take years. Actual writing starts very slowly, a page, two, three, five at a time, feeling my way into it. This goes on for about 100 pages. There may be several changes, rewrites, some bits thrown out and others added. Around page 100, the book starts to come alive and the pace picks up. It's still relatively slow and may struggle a bit as it gets to the part I call the muddle. Then that sorts out and we're in the homestretch. There's usually a stop here to do final revisions of the story so far, proofread it, clean it up, sort out any remaining gaps or problems. Then I outline the last bit (usually a quarter to a third of the total), sometimes in detail. And that's the starting block for the last race--the mad blitz to the finish, which can run up 15, 20, 25 pages a day, in a white heat, until it's done.
That's my routine. It's fallen into place over the years and it works for me. A particular requirement of the final blitz is that it be done in the bunker as we put it--with as many distractions as possible shut out, larder stocked, daily crap minimized, and the decks cleared for action.
This time I didn't get that. I got Refi From Hell and monster stress on top of the standard end-of-book stress. I kept on slugging, in fact it was an escape from the other garbage, but I was pushing the limits and I knew it. But it had to be done.
Today, as was to be expected, was Crash Day. It's always Crash Day after a book gets done, hardcopy hits the PO, e-copy lands in editor's Inbox. My mind is still spinning on the hamster wheel. I can't believe I don't have to get X number of pages done today Or Else. I'm having an awful time giving myself permission to do nothing for even a couple of days, since I have Stuff backed up and must do much much more before I get a real break. Add in the three-month habit of intense stress, to the point that relaxation doesn't seem possible at all, and life is interesting.
However the body politic has its own view of things, and it is completely tapped out. I slept most of today, except for occasional crawls out to the barn to do necessary horse chores. Capria was snorked that I didn't ride her. I was supposed to ride her! It was on the schedule! But she has to wait. I don't usually pay much attention to the fibro/CFS thing, but right now it's saying, "Er. ExCUSE me."
Crash Day. Oh yes.
Thanks to all who offered hugs and support.
lynnesite, I think you've got it--Pooka's chariot has to come from book money. That's the way the karma works.There's a discussion of fantasy burnout coming, but I need to de-burnout my brain cells first. Also a cool contest to end the month over at Luna, but that has to wait another day as well. I have no working synapses.
I think I must give myself permission to Do Nothing for the rest of the weekend. It's haaaard, she wailed. I have so much to dooooooo!
Hamster. Wheel. Spin spin spinspinspin.
