Welp, it’s Monday. The heat wave is, thankfully, over, and I have, finally, found out how to zoom the screen so that I can see the words I’m typing without eyestrain. This was a good weekend just past. I spent the better part of Saturday, hanging out with Housemate, our friend, J, and J’s kitties, one of whom wore herself out chasing the red dot from J’s laser pointer. We talked about important things and unimportant things. There was ice cream. I faked out a cat, by not actually turning on the laser pointer, but acting as though I had. The afternoon ended all too soon. Sunday was mostly me napping, once lunch was over. I went to bed early.
I would say that I didn’t think/talk about writing much, but that’s not true. I am always thinking about writing. I should be writing, I should be writing more, I should be writing better, I should be writing something more marketable (that’s a big one) etc. That sort of stuff. There’s also the other side of the coin. I love writing, I wish I were writing, would anybody notice if I whipped out my notebook and started writing right now? What if my characters are doing something without me? What if they’re plotting? (Note: I mean amongst themselves, possibly against me, not actualy helping out with the plotting of the story, because that would be awesome if they did. Some of them do.) My mind is a messy place.
Now, as I am seated here at the tv tray desk, keyboard on lap desk on my lap, with seasonally appropriate beverage at hand, it’s time to get down to the business of writing, which is mainly comprised, right now, of the work I meant to do last week, before the heat tsunami knocked me flat.
This morning, I set up at the kitchen counter, with my planner, washi tape, and an array of colored pens, to plan out my week. What gets done, and when? Anxiety says “all of it, and right now, but never mind. It is both urgent, and too late, bwahahaha.” Anxiety is a jerk. That’s where planning comes into play. If I can see the big looming NEED broken down into manageable steps, that makes it not as intimidating. Realistically, I can get through all the Chasing Prince Charming stuff by the end of the week, and be ready for the “resubmit” portion of “revise and resubmit,” which will then allow Melva and I to turn our attention back to Drama King, and our own individual projects.
If we’d had a parrot with us during the moving process, and the in-between-homes phase, the first phrase he would have learned is “do the thing in front of you.” “Pack the entire house,” for example, is far more overwhelming than “assemble this box.” Sure, “assemble this box” may be repeated elebenty billion times, but focusing on each individual box means that things do, eventually, get done.
It’s like that with writing. My idea hamster is more of a idea horse when it comes to Her Last First Kiss, and is doing the whole pawing at the ground, chomping at the bit thing, because “wow, it’s been a while” bumps right up against “about dang time,” and time and distance can, in the best of cases, provide perspective. I like perspective. I find it useful.
This month, there are no RWA meetings, because the national conference takes place in July. I am not going, but I like knowing it’s there. CT Fiction Fest is almost close enough to measure in weeks, rather than months, and the anthology release is only an eyeblink away. The August meeting of my local RWA chapter will be here before I know it, and I want my shot at winning the goals pool. I’m competitive like that.
Part of me is still salty that I didn’t sign up for Camp NaNo, because I do like the daily page goals (yes, I know I can do it on my own, but refer to competitive comment above.) We’ll see how Actual NaNo looks when we get closer to November.
For now, I have my weiner-dog-printed-shorts-clad bottom in chair, fingers on keyboard, taking care of one thing at a time. First up, look at the last new-new scene for Chasing Prince Charming, then polish my last scene for this draft. If the draft as a whole looks good (which I am sure it will) then back the book goes, for another look. That’s a little scary, and a little exciting. Sometimes, scary and exciting take turns, but, mostly, they hang out at the same time. I can deal with that.