It's been a hectic couple weeks around here. I've not done any writing beyond editing A Broken Race. The Percolator is giving me glimpses at how to cut Trust's word count before it tries another foray into queryland. Healer is glaring at me. No one likes short stories glaring at them. Especially kinda creepy ones. I'd intended to have that one revised and back out in submissions but that just hasn't happened. Children of the Leaves is looking like its about ready to gang up with Healer any minute.
I should probably keep Blue close while I'm sleeping. He's be happy to eat anything at this point. His translator is still in the shop. Poor guy...err...umm...male alien?
So what the heck is keeping me from writing? Workity freaking work work.
The not-quite-but-sorta-in-this-case problem is that I have a fulfilling creative day job. (Which has also become an evening job recently). Thanks to a somewhat overwhelming workload, my creative juices are being sucked dry. By the time I collapse in front of my writing computer, I'm running on fumes. Keeping up with edits is all I can manage at the moment, and I'm a week behind the critiques that are coming in so 'keeping up' is a relative term.
On the plus side, bills are getting paid and we're planning a vacation this summer. Let's just hope the Percolator doesn't explode before things mellow out a little around here.
Ah, work. It keeps me from my personal pursuits at times, too. Can't I just get paid for being awesome? ;)
ReplyDeleteThat would be nice, wouldn't it? :D
DeleteA fulfilling creative day job would be a wonderful excuse. I'm afraid in my case by the time I get to slump in front of my computer to write, it's sheer exhaustion that keeps me from doing anything :(
ReplyDelete