| I'm getting ready to write the Big Climax of my current WIP. I've solved one mystery. I've hinted at all sorts of things. Now I need to end it all with a bang. It's all there, most of the answers are in my head, I'm getting ready to tie up all those elements and bring in hordes of bad guys and ghosts and blood and guts and, oh, all sorts of wonders. So, naturally, I'm wasting time on IMDB and doing lj memes and rereading Andrew Vachss novels for the millionth time. When I was nearing the end of Personal Demons I went on a baking kick. I would think about writing, but then I would decide what we really needed in the house was a Victoria sponge with Nutella and fresh whipped cream (which was delicious, btw.) Or a chocolate sponge with raspberry jam and whipped cream (also quite yummy). Or cookies. Then I decided instead of gaining weight cooking I should instead do some cleaning. The house sparkled for a week. I even washed my rice & flour canisters. I used toothpicks wrapped in cotton to clean grout. I washed cabinet shelves and used baby wipes to clean all the doors and doorframes. I believe my body has joined me in my work avoidance this time. Even the flesh isn't willing. I have developed--I think--an ear infection, so I'm currently slightly deaf and in pain. So off I go in half an hour or so to the doctor, where hopefully they will be able to treat me. (When the hubs had bronchitis last year, the doctor said, and I quote, "You're a strong, healthy young man. Just give it some time, and come back if you start coughing up blood." So I sincerely hope I will not be sent home and told to come back if I go completely deaf.) Oh yes. Anything nd everything becomes infinitely fascinating when you are getting ready to finish a project. Anything and everything that isn't actually finishing the project. I suppose part of it could be the subconscious fear of rejection. If you never finish the book, you never have to submit the book. Another part, for me at least, is the knowledge that when the book is done you're going to have to read it and see if it's really any good yourself. And try to fix what's wrong, which means rewrites and tinkering and rpping the book apart and hoping it can be put back together. It means second-guessing yourself, second-guessing your characters--is that guy really as charming as you think, or just a dick? Is the heroine a strong, likeable woman with vulnerabilities, or is she just a sad sack bitch? And the biggest one, the worse one, is when you finish the book you have to leave the world. No more. You can tinker and reread, but you have no idea if you'll ever be able to play with those people again. They're gone, they live on their own, not part of you anymore in the way they used to be. It's lonely and it's sad and it's strange, and I hate that bereft feeling. But we must finish. If we don't finish, we'll never know if it's any good or not. We'll never have that accomplishment. We'll never be able to share that world with anyone else, and ultimately, isn't that what we want to do? Finishing a book separates the writers from the hobbyists, so if you want to be a writer you don't have a choice. Can't be a lawyer without passing the bar; can't be a writer without doing some of that pesky writing. So I'm off to get moving. Um, before I go to the doctor, that is. |
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Merry Procrastination, and have a lovely day! :-)
Yikes, and I thought I was a heavy duty procrastinator! ;-)
Sometimes that procrastination is part of the process. After each book I've written, I've freaked out and not been able to write for about a month. I thought this was me procrastinating, but I then I realized it's my brain forcing me to let it a rest.
Good luck with the ear (and the doctor).
On the first book, I definitely felt that a lot.
Now that I have a deadline to meet and that one success on the large scale under my belt, I feel it less.
But, I've only four scenes left in book two of the Dead To Me series, and I find I can't even turn on the TV or music for my usual background noise or else I go off on a Googling spree. I mean, how else can I figure out who's voicing Iorek the bear in The Golden Compass NOW NOW NOW?
So other than that, I had a productive silent writing night yesterday.
Oh, also, I cut five partially written filler scenes because after reading my page proofs for book one, I have a better eye for what feels like padding to hit a word count. I'm okay being closer to 90,000 words this time around and I know it makes my editor happy too!
Thanks, Tez! It's your little ipod meme I did on lj, btw, thanks for that, lol.
Oh, Skarrah, nobody has me beat on procrastination. If I didn't have kids to feed I'd never make it to the grocery store either. :-)
I know, Jaye, but I really wanted to have this one done before the holidays, you know? Sigh.
Oh, nyah nyah nyah Anton. You're so cool, I want to be just like you when I grow up. Rub in in a little more, why don't you? Lol.
Stace- if it's any help to you, I look at the manuscript as a whole right now wondering if I'm even remotely pulling this second book off AT ALL!
I'm in second book hell. Everytime I sit down to right it, I want to right a holiday horror story or incubus porn. Why? Why?
Oh, Anton, there's not a doubt in my mind that you've pulled it off beautifully.
Well, Mark, what can I say, but you have to write what you really love. If incubus porn does it for you...who am I to judge?
Mark- I'll judge. NO NO NO NO NO!
Hey, they say "write what you know..."
Then Incubus Porn it is...
I look back on those days with pride, impregnating unsuspecting sleepers with my demon seed. Magic.
Best thing about an ear infection, is the pain is self-limiting--eventually your eardrum breaks, and the agony ends. Of course, for the next two months you get to hear this annoying crackle every time you swallow, but at least you're not in pain, right?
As for procrastination, don't be so hard on yourself. More than two of the ten weeks it took me to write Crossing Swords (coming out in March from Samhain yay me!) was spent not writing at all. I knew I had to have a big-ass, bloody, mayhem-filled climax. I knew I had to make my hero look like a hero and my heroine look like not an idiot, and everybody live who needed to and everybody die who so totally deserved it, but I wasn't sure how to work the whole sequence. I gave myself a break and then, one night, it all just came to me. Bam.
Of course, I didn't spend any of that time cleaning. It just isn't who I am.
I say just go with the flow. Give your noodle a rest. I think there're probably some baseboards in your hallway that could use a scrub. If not, you can always come to my house and clean mine. ;)
It's a shame none of your professional sorts are in my neck of the woods. Not because I need crit partners and mentors. I really need someone to clean the baseboards in my bathroom.
Dude, I want to write a holiday story too!!
Must be something in the air...(or the egg nog)
The League of Reluctant Adults presents:
Blech the Halls: An Anthology of Ridiculous Holiday Tales from Five of the Most ... Interesting Urban Fantasy Writers Today
...incubus porn. Why? Why?
Why? How about "why not?" ;-) And you can't have an incubus story without porn ;-)
Have a lovely day! :-)
Mark - Uh wasn't said incubus supposed to be impotent? I swear that is why I thought the premise was hi-larious..
"Blech the Halls: An Anthology of Ridiculous Holiday Tales from Five of the Most ... Interesting Urban Fantasy Writers Today"
I'd read it.
Alchemuse - Yes, he's definitely an impotent incubus, but he's smart, without scruples and knows how to improvise.
That's dirtier no matter how you slice it.
"Improvise"
Well, alrighty then. That is a horse of a different color.