The drums, the damned drums. Will they never stop?
So in case you're wondering where I am these days, you will be shocked -- shocked and AMAZED -- to hear that I am writing. YES!
Me. Seriously, this is hell month for me. To say that I am bad at responding to people right now is to flatter me ridiculously. So far I have done
I Spy Something Wicked (the Loose Id Halloween Fling sequel to
I Spy Something Bloody), I've done the first draft on
The Dickens With Love, the Christmas novellas for Samhain, I'm halfway through
Old Poison, the sequel to
Dangerous Ground, the edits for the print version of
Somebody Killed His Editor...And the fun isn't over. I still have my edits to do on
The Dickens With Love, edits on something else, and
The Dark Farewell a historical novella about spiritualists and serial killers in the 1930s midwest.
So suffice it to say it's a busy, busy month.
But a strange thing is happening. Rather than stalling out, unable to think what to write next, I seem to have slipped into some hitherto unknown high gear -- or caught a second wind. I'm writing very well right now. I don't mean, gosh-I'm-such-a-brilliant-writer! I mean, I'm focused and the ideas are flowing and the words are coming. I think this is worth commenting on because this shouldn't be happening. I've written, well, a lot this year. At the end of this month alone I'll have done about 150K.
And it's all wildly different stuff.
I'm not going to lie and say that it's been easy. I've been snapping and snarling at friends and family, my wrists are not good at the moment, but it's encouraging because the lesson here is -- and although I already knew this, even I have to sometimes be reminded -- the more you write, the easier it is to write.
You cannot anguish over every paragraph, sentence, word. Save the anguish for the rewrite (and, yes, you flipping MUST rewrite -- I don't care what comforting bullshit you tell yourself about the rewrite-just-being-different-not-better;
editing, polishing, rewriting make a better book). Get it down on paper. Stop coming up with these excuses. Write. Keep writing.
So that's basically it. I won't bore you with my battles (in between writing) with the ants that have decided to move in with me -- yes, and share office space. Or my thoughts on
Queen of Atlantis, a 1936 horror flick that I thought might make a change in background noise from the classical music.
All that can wait till the end of the month. Suffice it to say I am well and I am on track for all these projects, and if you don't hear from me for the next two weeks -- well, barring the BOOKTALES FOR TWO (ha, see that Wave!) conversation Nikki Kimberling and I are having at Jessewave's on Monday. I'll hopefully remember to post that link.