Bunker Mode
Jun. 2nd, 2004 08:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dancinghorseNormally I hit the bunker at the end of a book--six weeks of total-immersion blitz. It's less usual to do it in the beginning or middle, but here I am. All I want to do is write and work horses. I don't want to go out. I don't want to be social. I don't want to mess with stupid daily crap that has to be messed with or Bad Things Will Happen. (Stupid car with stupid persistent leak. Feh.)
It's always been a peculiar side effect of the full-time writer's life that time to actually write must be stolen from all the other garbage that persists in happening to the writer. Was it Edward Abbey who wrote the murder mystery, "You Were Just Writing, So We Thought We'd Stop By"? And of course there's that plaguey Person From Porlock.
Not that I've been plagued with people at all, but I haven't been feeling the right kind of energy to post online. Life is like this: Ride. Write. Write. Ride. Sleep, occasionally and what a pain to have to do it.
I have also discovered a lovely mathematical formula. Five-DVD changer. Extended Fellowship, two discs. Extended Two Towers, two discs. And theatrical RotK, one disc. Total: a large, round Wow. Can't beat it for background music for two-novels-at-once. (One in the daylight, one at night. Five pages minimum per day per draft. Don't always make the minimum, but I do try.)
Now that dragon weather is here, the horse schedule has to shift into the cooler portions of the day. That means riding in the mornings as well as the evenings, and last night I was groundworking Camilla in the dusk, with the moon bright enough to see by. She was a little excited, as she had never gone out after dinner before, let alone after sundown, and da Pook was having hissies over it, but she kept herself under control (rather a big deal for the War Mare) and let me know that a loose lead is a Good Thing with her even when she's higher than the proverbial kite. The War Mare at rest is a short, blocky thing--she's millimetering toward 14.3 (should make 15 hands by the time she's 8 or 9) and she's built like a brick--but when the warp engines are in gear, she is Huge. She displaces the air around her in such a way that you can feel as if she's knocking you down just being there. Now put her on a leadrope in the evening, with stallion rampsnorting up and down nearby, and get her heading Up into a passage, and it's...interesting.
And now I am trying to talk myself into taking stupid car in for stupid leak fix, during which I can read second set of proofs in as many weeks. I want to stay home and set the Wild Hunt on William Rufus.
Writing. The only profession in which actually doing what you do for a living is a guilty pleasure.
It's always been a peculiar side effect of the full-time writer's life that time to actually write must be stolen from all the other garbage that persists in happening to the writer. Was it Edward Abbey who wrote the murder mystery, "You Were Just Writing, So We Thought We'd Stop By"? And of course there's that plaguey Person From Porlock.
Not that I've been plagued with people at all, but I haven't been feeling the right kind of energy to post online. Life is like this: Ride. Write. Write. Ride. Sleep, occasionally and what a pain to have to do it.
I have also discovered a lovely mathematical formula. Five-DVD changer. Extended Fellowship, two discs. Extended Two Towers, two discs. And theatrical RotK, one disc. Total: a large, round Wow. Can't beat it for background music for two-novels-at-once. (One in the daylight, one at night. Five pages minimum per day per draft. Don't always make the minimum, but I do try.)
Now that dragon weather is here, the horse schedule has to shift into the cooler portions of the day. That means riding in the mornings as well as the evenings, and last night I was groundworking Camilla in the dusk, with the moon bright enough to see by. She was a little excited, as she had never gone out after dinner before, let alone after sundown, and da Pook was having hissies over it, but she kept herself under control (rather a big deal for the War Mare) and let me know that a loose lead is a Good Thing with her even when she's higher than the proverbial kite. The War Mare at rest is a short, blocky thing--she's millimetering toward 14.3 (should make 15 hands by the time she's 8 or 9) and she's built like a brick--but when the warp engines are in gear, she is Huge. She displaces the air around her in such a way that you can feel as if she's knocking you down just being there. Now put her on a leadrope in the evening, with stallion rampsnorting up and down nearby, and get her heading Up into a passage, and it's...interesting.
And now I am trying to talk myself into taking stupid car in for stupid leak fix, during which I can read second set of proofs in as many weeks. I want to stay home and set the Wild Hunt on William Rufus.
Writing. The only profession in which actually doing what you do for a living is a guilty pleasure.
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Also hunkered down
Date: 2004-06-02 09:54 am (UTC)Uh, I'd have to classify horse photography in that category, too. :-) Even the back-end photo prep is fun if the subjects were halfway interesting. Shooting the Cavalia backstage stuff was like that. Gorgeous Iberian stallions, what a hardship.
At least you're obsessed by something that Makes Money, OTOH, I haven't wanted to do anything that takes me away either--but from Twix. Looking at finances last night, gotta heave myself back into the world of 'puter helpdammit.
Re: Also hunkered down
Date: 2004-06-04 12:50 pm (UTC)Re: Also hunkered down
Date: 2004-06-05 08:52 am (UTC)Re: Also hunkered down
Date: 2004-06-11 09:02 am (UTC)Probably won't be until October issue either.
no subject
Date: 2004-06-02 03:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-06-04 12:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-06-02 10:32 pm (UTC)I'm buried in moving boxes, trying to decide what I can afford to pay someone else to move. Have a library book I MUST read--last renewal--and two Inter-library loans I must pick up, but only when I can read--not renewable
no subject
Date: 2004-06-04 12:52 pm (UTC)