oh look, a post of actual writing content!

Elsewhere, various people are posting their daily schedule. Me? I don't have one. I get up at 6ish, unless I'm up earlier, and feed the felines. Everything else follows from there. I work at what needs to be done in order of importance, interest, and deadlines [including freelance and Occasional Employment], I exercise when my body tells me to (and it tells me so on a regular basis, being hyperactive from Day One), I socialize when I feel the need for interaction, and I sleep when I am exhausted.

I don't recommend this for everyone. I spent two decades living according to a specific pattern, and I like not having one, for now. I dislike doing the same thing over and over and over again. It bores me, and a bored meerkat is not a healthy meerkat.

That said? I have spent the last umpteenish hours working on a short story that is kicking. My. Ass.

I started it several months ago, just a random character sitting in a random setting, thinking some random thoughts. Generally, I write short fiction to work out an Issue I'm having trouble with, digging into causes and probable outcomes in a very organic fashion. It's a very different mental place from novel-writing, which combines story-telling with structural engineering.

This story, tho... I knew the issue, because I wasn't working it out so much as the realization that I had already worked it out, if that makes any sense. But the story itself wasn't building properly in my head.

And so it sat.

And then an image came to me, and I understood what the story was about, which meant I knew who it was. And the beginning made sense, and I was able to fill in the basic details of what happened, and then... brick wall. For whatever reason, I wasn't ready to write the story just yet.

Last night, after fiddling with another story, I opened up the file and wrote a large chunk of the opening, looked at the middle bits, and skipped ahead to write the ending. I do that so rarely I can count it on one hand, but I knew exactly what happened, and where everyone ends up, and why...

But the center is still sitting there like unrisen dough, just all...lumpy and floury.

Which means it needs more kneading. Bother.

Back to't.

( a sample, for them as are interested... )

And proof that my schedule is mutable: before I could even hit 'send' on this, the doorbell rang. My UPS guy, handing over the author alterations (not quite proofs but close) for FREE FALL. Two weeks earlier than expected, and due back 1/7.

Never a dull moment.

Excuse me while I make another pot of caffeine.

week's end but not work's end...

When stressed, being able to chase a large cat around the apartment, tussle over a rag with said cat [yes, he does think he's a Golden Retriever, why do you ask?], and then curl up on the sofa with said cat, smaller, non-tussle cat, and a mug of spicy hot cocoa is high up on the list of Good Ideas.

(how do you guys deal with stress? Do you have a range of stress-related behavior, or is it one-cure-kicks-all? I've had retail therapy suggested but for various reasons psychological it's not an option for me)

Meanwhile, 1,800 words were written on the yet-untitled still-kicking-my-ass story, The Project Eating My Brain now has a detailed chapter-by-chapter breakdown I'm pleased with, and I got to have a come-to-Jesus meeting with one of the people causing me stress. We'll see how that works out.

Tomorrow I get to run errands and do some chores before the next "wintery mix" comes through on Sunday. Brrr.