Eleven Days
Mar. 6th, 2015 06:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
handful_ofdustHey, so.
What I've been doing, predictably, has been working on the book. I've also been dealing with stress--not very well, probably. As so often happens, where it hits me in in my gut and my ability to sleep. I write for 2,000 words, regroup and distract myself, try to write 500 to 2,000 more, get to bed around 2:30 or 3:00 AM. Everything inside me seems to have turned into black, burning muck, which isn't great, obviously. Still, at least I discovered I had one more repeat left on my Apo-Meloxicam/Tecta combo, which should hopefully see me through the rest of this month.
I received a friendly email asking if I thought I would make my to-editor manuscript delivery deadline (March 30) yesterday, which did make me freak out just a tad. I allowed as how I thought I could still do it, and I stand by that--today I finished Chapter Fourteen, which also finishes out Part Two of the entire book. I'm over 80,000 words in, so ostensibly I have 20,000 words to wrap up in, but we all know that's not going to happen. Instead, I'll run a bit long--maybe 120,000, maybe 130,000--and file, then go back and cut the shit out of it, as per. No reason to break a pattern if it works. I'm pretty happy with what I've got thus far, though.
Other thank that...not much. I re-watched Hannibal Seasons One and Two, along with some creepy-good ghost movies. Been chipping away at the pile of WFC books a bit, mainly by using them as bathroom reading material. I bought Caitlin R. Kiernan's Cherry Bomb, her third Kathleen Tierney novel. As ever, it's a fierce, pitch-black lesbian horror noir that skewers the tropes of paranormal romance right through their cold, dead, mushy little hearts, and while I understand she doesn't really like these stories very much, I really do. Quinn is exactly the sort of literally monstrous fuck-up I adore; I'd read a book about her every year, if I could.
Anyhow. Back to listening to creepy shit (Lustmord, the Haxan Cloak, Hexentanz, Jocelyn Pook's Deluge) and writing hopefully even creepier shit. I have a bad angel leaning over my shoulder, after all, and she must be appeased somehow.;)
What I've been doing, predictably, has been working on the book. I've also been dealing with stress--not very well, probably. As so often happens, where it hits me in in my gut and my ability to sleep. I write for 2,000 words, regroup and distract myself, try to write 500 to 2,000 more, get to bed around 2:30 or 3:00 AM. Everything inside me seems to have turned into black, burning muck, which isn't great, obviously. Still, at least I discovered I had one more repeat left on my Apo-Meloxicam/Tecta combo, which should hopefully see me through the rest of this month.
I received a friendly email asking if I thought I would make my to-editor manuscript delivery deadline (March 30) yesterday, which did make me freak out just a tad. I allowed as how I thought I could still do it, and I stand by that--today I finished Chapter Fourteen, which also finishes out Part Two of the entire book. I'm over 80,000 words in, so ostensibly I have 20,000 words to wrap up in, but we all know that's not going to happen. Instead, I'll run a bit long--maybe 120,000, maybe 130,000--and file, then go back and cut the shit out of it, as per. No reason to break a pattern if it works. I'm pretty happy with what I've got thus far, though.
Other thank that...not much. I re-watched Hannibal Seasons One and Two, along with some creepy-good ghost movies. Been chipping away at the pile of WFC books a bit, mainly by using them as bathroom reading material. I bought Caitlin R. Kiernan's Cherry Bomb, her third Kathleen Tierney novel. As ever, it's a fierce, pitch-black lesbian horror noir that skewers the tropes of paranormal romance right through their cold, dead, mushy little hearts, and while I understand she doesn't really like these stories very much, I really do. Quinn is exactly the sort of literally monstrous fuck-up I adore; I'd read a book about her every year, if I could.
Anyhow. Back to listening to creepy shit (Lustmord, the Haxan Cloak, Hexentanz, Jocelyn Pook's Deluge) and writing hopefully even creepier shit. I have a bad angel leaning over my shoulder, after all, and she must be appeased somehow.;)
