Monday, February 9, 2015

I've come too far to turn back now!

I got to 1,928 words on Friday before I had to leave to Fort Collins for the book signing. (Spoilers: I finished when I got home.) When I got there, shortly after 3, I found that the line was long. Long long. Around the block... then the next block... then the block after that kind of long. In addition to that, I had neglected the rule that I’m sure was prominent on the website if I had bothered to look: I had to have pre-ordered Gaiman’s new book in order to get a signature. I think there were copies to buy on site, but by the time I got there, I had no confidence there would be any left over to buy when I got to the front of the line.

So, with a heavy heart, I called it a wash and my friends and I went to a late lunch at Coopersmith’s, which was delicious and you should definitely go there, if you have a chance. By the time we were driving back, it was rush hour and there were three separate accidents on I-25, so we took a “long” way (which was a much shorter way, in light of the traffic conditions). All in all, a very nice day—but far from relaxing.

Saturday, I spent almost the entire day cleaning the house. In this instance, when I say cleaning, I mean straightening, organizing, and neatening—not bust-out-the-cleaning-supplies sort of cleaning. And it was still all day long and totally overwhelming. By the time I went to bed, my brain had shut off hours before.

Sunday, we had yet more neatening to do, but it was the much smaller half and we were done by 2:15. Then we had Writers’ Group at 6, to which I was greatly looking forward. But I had writing to catch up on before that, so I wasn’t able to squeeze in more than forty-five minutes of low-key, relaxing “fun time.”

In addition to getting good feedback on my story and getting to give feedback on good friends’ stories (good friends’ good stories?), I also got to see my friend Kevin again for the first time in, what, two years? After Writers’ Group, Kevin, Branden and I went out to dinner at Fire On The Mountain Buffalo Wings... Om nom nom. Then home again with just enough time to fold laundry, brush teeth, have fun for a half hour and go to bed (even so, much too late).

Tl:dr; I didn’t get to fill my fun tank this weekend. Writing usually takes me two hours or longer, and catching up on feeds takes a similar amount of time on a normal day—which today is not, since I didn’t catch up on feeds at all over the weekend. So I don’t see fun in my future this week either. (I really wish that Blogger had emoji, or good image integration. Insert sad face here.)

One of my friends told me to take the day off. I really want to do that. My writing tank is so full and my fun tank is so empty, I’m rolling Willpower every few minutes not to start up Don’t Starve and scream “Fuck it!” into the void.

But I want to finish my book. I want to get the second draft done so that I can start the third draft (hopefully more of an edit and less of a complete rewrite) so that I can put some polish on it and work on getting it published. But what I am having trouble understanding right now is why people would write more than one book in their lives. Don’t they have friends and loved ones who feel their absence? Don’t they have hobbies they’re neglecting or recreational activities they miss?

I must have faith that this angst will pass. Stay the course. No one can write my book but me. I just gotta hang in there.

Word count: 21,066 (削)

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