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Notes from the Bunker
Oct. 17th, 2004 11:21 amI am resisting the latest spate of memeage. It requires higher brain functions rather than punching dots or autofilling forms.
I have no social energy at all. E-mail? It sits there. People ask me if I'm alive. (Read my lj, people. There are clues there.) Lists? The fire's out, though I did post something at a listowner's request this morning (kind of an abused-horse rescue).
So what am I doing?
Horses. No choice there. They have to eat. They have to have water. They're also very good for decompressing the brain, so the riding happens pretty regularly.
And...
The Book. Must be the third completed in six weeks. (I will never again voluntarily commit myself to a year's worth of deadlines in one fell lump.) Even having them all started and thoroughly prewritten for months in advance--there's still that insane final blitz, when the whole world narrows to a single point, and all I can do is Write The Book.
18 pages yesterday (clean draft--will be gone through for punctuation and word choice, but essentially, this is the real deal). Normal cruising speed is 5. 10 is good going. I looked up in the middle of a page and realized it was one a.m. and I have to be in the barn at 7. Yeep. I did not want to stop. I couldn't wait to see what happened next. Even though I knew. It's in the outline and the synopsis. I wanted to be there.
This is the authorial equivalent of "can't put it down" and "read it all in one sitting"--which is a frequent comment on this book's predecessor. Good. We have achieved Pacing. Pacing is a Good Thing. But it happens at the other end, too--and Author gets no sleep.
I needed an Attack Novel. The Elder Gods gave me one. I get to write about HORSIES! Every day! Squeeee!
Back to it. When I come out of this one, I shall go Thud for a month. It's a plan and I'm sticking to it.
I have no social energy at all. E-mail? It sits there. People ask me if I'm alive. (Read my lj, people. There are clues there.) Lists? The fire's out, though I did post something at a listowner's request this morning (kind of an abused-horse rescue).
So what am I doing?
Horses. No choice there. They have to eat. They have to have water. They're also very good for decompressing the brain, so the riding happens pretty regularly.
And...
The Book. Must be the third completed in six weeks. (I will never again voluntarily commit myself to a year's worth of deadlines in one fell lump.) Even having them all started and thoroughly prewritten for months in advance--there's still that insane final blitz, when the whole world narrows to a single point, and all I can do is Write The Book.
18 pages yesterday (clean draft--will be gone through for punctuation and word choice, but essentially, this is the real deal). Normal cruising speed is 5. 10 is good going. I looked up in the middle of a page and realized it was one a.m. and I have to be in the barn at 7. Yeep. I did not want to stop. I couldn't wait to see what happened next. Even though I knew. It's in the outline and the synopsis. I wanted to be there.
This is the authorial equivalent of "can't put it down" and "read it all in one sitting"--which is a frequent comment on this book's predecessor. Good. We have achieved Pacing. Pacing is a Good Thing. But it happens at the other end, too--and Author gets no sleep.
I needed an Attack Novel. The Elder Gods gave me one. I get to write about HORSIES! Every day! Squeeee!
Back to it. When I come out of this one, I shall go Thud for a month. It's a plan and I'm sticking to it.
