Meh

[desperance]

Yesterday? I wrote nine pages yesterday. There was no stopping me; there never would be any stopping me ever again. Why would I ever want to stop?

Today? Well, have a guess. Go on.

I finished a chapter last thing last night, which is never good for continuity; I like to finish 'em in the middle of the day, and get the next one rolling before I quit. This next one needs thinking about, which means I need to get out there in the world, at the measured pace that clicks my brain into gear: for yes, I am all clockpunk at heart. At mainspring. Whatever.

But I can't go out, because I am (again) waiting for my copy-edit. If it doesn't come, I shall be wrathy; but in the meantime, I am just, oh, clagged-up and dissolute. I don't know what to do, so I do practically nothing. I tried clearing out my inbox, but I got bored after a couple of thousand messages. I could tidy my desk, but I'm bored in advance of that. I could upgrade my Linux distribution, but I'm scared of that going catastrophically wrong.

A big yellow truck just stopped in the street, but I don't think it delivers copy-edits; it says "Dial-a-Bed" on the front. Um. People are strange.

I could read a book, I suppose. Sometimes that even qualifies as work. I have a book on the Yangtze that features photos of naked men hauling boats on ropes (I peeked). That's my notion of research. But it feels such a shame not to be writing, at the back end of a month where I have written so much. I'm only stalled, not stuck; I don't want to stop. I don't want to be stopped.

There goes "Dial-a-Bed". WTF...? "Help - it's an emergency! I have unexpected guests! Bring me a bed!" "Certainly, sir. Single, double or bunk?"

The trouble with being right on the road this way, is every time a vehicle stops I think that might be it. But there's a bus stop just a spit to the east, a traffic-light just a spit to the west, a park on the other side of the road; I get a lot of stopping vehicles. Bastards. Don't they know I'm waiting for a delivery?

I appear to be live-blogging the wait. This is not good.

*goes away*

Comments

[martyn44.livejournal.com]

'Clagged up and dissolute', oh what a descriptive phrase. How I know that feeling. One can tell you're a writer.

Don't start playing solitaire. It is fatal.

[mabfan.livejournal.com]

In the United States, there's been a company around for years called Dial-a-Mattress. They became very successful with their ad campaign: "Dial M-A-T-T-R-E-S. And leave off the last S; that's the S for Savings."

(US phone numbers are seven digits long after the area code. Eventually their company stopped the ad campaign; I suspect they realized that dialing an extra number after the phone number wasn't going to affect the call.)

[mizkit.livejournal.com]

Write, Chaz, write! *cheers you on*!

[sora-blue.livejournal.com]

Does it help get the gears going again if you re-read the previous chapter?

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Nope. This is non-sequential, it's a leap from over-there to over-here, to catch up with other people's doings. I know what they're doing, too: just not quite sure what else to do with the scene, which means I don't know where to jump in. As the session starts? As the mood builds? As the tension erupts, into flashing blades and (possibly) harm done? I dunno. It might even be cathartic, leading to peace & love between the parties. Though I doubt it. I don't know, and I need to think. And it's now, what, half-past four, and do I really believe my copy-edit is still going to arrive today...?

[sora-blue.livejournal.com]

Ooooh, non-sequential. That is tougher. :(