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Some progress

This week has been a slightly more useful one, though I’m still fairly down.  I had this last weekend off and indulged myself with staying home and not requiring myself to do anything but a load or two of laundry.  Granted, even that is a bit of a daunting prospect with my knee still a bit wonky, but I don’t have to leave the building at least, even if I do have to hit some stairs.  Thus, I did manage to update a chapter on Lazarus Machine, which pleased me, and I have a reasonable chunk of the next chapter as well.

I worked Monday and Tuesday and for some reason, my feet and legs just ached three times as much as they usually do.  I blame it on favoring my knee, but it feels kind of like I have arthritis in all my joints from the knees down, including each and every toe joint, and it’s gonna rain.  Ugh.  Not sure how I’m going to manage working the next week straight if that kind of aching keeps up.

Anyway, today I relaxed and finished up my Huntsman story, finally.  It’s not like I don’t have other things to work on, but I’m not sure what I’m going to do now that I don’t have to update that one anymore! 😉  I’m pleased, but tired, and it’s one less diversion from getting my two Regency Sherlock stories done (which are diversions from getting any salable writing done, but that’s a whole other mental issue).

Anyway, I’m fairly pleased with how Huntsman turned out.  It’s not perfect by any means, but there are a few things I’m very pleased about, enough to make up for the things I’m not so sure about.  It ended up being just under 21,000 words, and just about none of it is how I really imagined it to be when I first conceptualized it.  🙂

New goal?  Have all of them finished by the airing of Season 3 of Sherlock?  How likely is that?  Or, sooner, and ready to be on to something new by the time NaNoWriMo rolls around again?  I didn’t do any of the Camp NaNo months, not that I ever really have.  For some reason, summer just depletes me.  I think it’s the unbearable heat.  All I want to do is lay around drinking water and eating popsicles in front of the A/C.  It’s too exhausting to do anything else.

Anyway, I promised to post Huntsman here when it was finished, and I’ll do that in the next post, since it’s a long one.

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Posted by on July 31, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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Missing persons (ie, more depressing shit, ignore me)

I’m not sure where I’ve been lately, but it hasn’t been in my writer-head. During my early-June vacation, I had (as always) hoped to write and get some stuff done. I wrote, and got stuff done, but not nearly what I’d hoped or planned. That is fine, and quite expected. I stated before that I wanted to finish two things (any two things) during my vacation, and I didn’t really come close. However, I did push myself after my vacation was over to focus on Sherlock and the Huntsman, a shorter piece that I was within sight of finishing. The next couple weeks saw two chapters posted for that story, but it meant The Lazarus Machine went without updates. I was okay with that.

And then. I was a bit stuck on Huntsman, knowing I only needed a chapter or two to finish. I’d overcome the plot hurdles and now just needed to write the climax and the happy ending. That’s still all I have left to write. And still, The Lazarus Machine languishes. I managed to skip over where I’d been a little stuck and write a good page or two towards my ending, but the last week and a half, I’ve been terrified out of my own head.

Depression, folks. Should have been an excellent week. Tuesday the 16th, some friends of mine and I were going down to Chicago to see Neil Gaiman, which is exciting. I was a bit stressed about it because money has been an extremely stressful thing for me lately, but arrangements had been made. It was a miserably hot day, but it was a fun drive down. And then I twisted my (already not-great) knee on the way to the signing. Sucked it up, hobbled along, because what else could I do? We were on the middle of a street in Chicago.

Came home the next day and after four hours in the car, could barely hobble ten feet. Went home. Called in sick for work the next two days. Cried in bed because if I can’t walk, I can’t work, can’t get paid, can’t afford to live or take care of myself or be in any way an adult. As it is, I can’t do that. Injured, I’ve no hope at all.

I won’t recount all the swirling shit in my head because I don’t really want to work myself up about it again, but it was definitely a final straw in the stresses I’ve been fighting off. The only recourse I had was to stay out of my own head. TV and books are generally the best at doing that, for me, so I refused to be left alone with my own thoughts. Which also means no writing, which is 95 percent in my head (so filled with landmines that I could pretty much only stand still and cry).

Thus, it’s been a good five or six weeks now since I’ve updated The Lazarus Machine, quite without meaning to let it go this long, and I don’t have a completed Huntsman to show for it. It would have made so much more sense to use my off-work recovery time to write, but it was like the only way to survive was to stuff cotton balls in my ears, cover them with my hands, and scream LA LA LA LA LA as loud as I could to drown out the bad thoughts.

As for the moment, my knee is improving, but since that was only one of several worries, it only eases the panic a little bit. The awful heat has relented for a day or two, which also helps, because I certainly don’t need the added misery. Everything else? I can only shrug.

 
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Posted by on July 20, 2013 in depression

 

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New sneakers! What the Dickens?

Today is one of those days where I was dreaming about work, (and also about ordering from Jimmy John’s), and when I awoke, I was slightly baffled by the lack of need to go into work.  One of the best thing about working retail is that you get days off during the week.  Of course, the flip side to that is working most weekends.  I don’t really mind, but sometimes it would be nice to have a more regular schedule, even if it was always 2-10 or 10-6 or something.  On the other hand, if it were always 7-3… well, it just doesn’t bear thinking about.

So, I’m relaxing today, or trying to, and happy that the a/c was on all last night leaving the apartment so cold I have to stay covered up to keep warm.  I may trot down to the bank later and actually enjoy the heat.  I can wear my new black and hot pink sneakers, which I got on clearance for $5.24 at Target.  I never get awesome deals like that, not with size 11-wide feet.

Last night I felt all a-misery because I’d worked pretty hard during the day without any ibuprofin.  I took 3 pills that evening and they didn’t seem to do much good until a neighbor brought me a piece of tiramisu and the caffeine from the espresso in it kick-started me into a bliss of pain-free-ness.  I even perked up after True Blood was over and was awake until eleven before the exhaustion headache kicked in.  Ah, True Blood, the only reason I wasn’t in bed at seven.  Was hoping the promised shower scene would be in this episode, but I live in hope that it will be there next week!

Tomorrow both Ghost Story by Jim Butcher, and Spell Bound by Kelley Armstrong are released.  They are both pre-ordered on my nook.  I’m certain I will set aside Drood by Dan Simmons, (sorry, Dan!), but I don’t know which I will read first.  I’m only a couple chapters into the Simmons book, and while I find it quite interesting so far (and I’ve been thinking about reading it for ages, as well as The Last Dickens by Matthew Pearl), perhaps I would be better to set it aside so I can read both in their entirety.  I bought Drood on my nook because the weight of the tome was detrimental to carrying it around with me, but I got The Last Dickens for 3.99 at bn.com, as well as Lev Grossman’s book The Magicians.

Generally, Dickens as an author doesn’t much interest me.  I tried to read a few things in my youth, but never much got into any of them.  Then came Bleak House, a 900 page tome I had to read in my British Lit class in college.  It would have been fine, but the same three weeks I had to read it, with 18 credits on my plate as it was, I got sick.  Like mono sick.  I thought it was strep throat and went to the clinic at school, but they said it wasn’t.  It wasn’t the ragingly wicked mono that can knock you out for months, but for those three weeks, even after the worst symptoms went away, I was exhausted.  Imagine falling asleep every chapter in a book that has 67 chapters.  I made it through, but I honestly don’t remember a bit about it.

However, Dickens as a character interests me a great deal.  The ego he had, the wife he called bovine-like (and hey, if all you can do is knock her up, no wonder she might remind you of a cow, dumbass), the mistress and the horrible accident, the downfall in mental state.  Those crazy Victorians!  Which reminds me, I have the second disk of Desperate Romantics to watch from Netflix yet.  Poor John Ruskin.  One hundred and fifty-plus years later, and people are still talking about his weird sex life.  See Controversies.  Of course, they still talk about Lewis Carroll and J. M. Barrie, too.  Does creativity and brilliance lead to weirdness?

At any rate, I ought to do at least something constructive today.  I don’t know that blogging counts, though it is something more than I typically accomplish.  Better anyway than snoring facedown in the pillow like I spent my entire morning.

 
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Posted by on July 25, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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