Fumbling for threads

[desperance]

It's tricky, picking up threads again even after only a few days away. I spent the weekend at NewCon 4 in Northampton (a four-day weekend for a two-day con, simply because Northampton is so extraordinarily difficult to get to - or away from - although it sits in the very heart of England), so much of me is still all jangled up by Input: new people, new projects, new quarrels, you know how it goes. Alan Moore was in and out all weekend: that was nice. A friend and I spoke, perhaps seriously, about doing something wonderful together. I want to be speaking more about that. I read books, on the endless trains both ways; I want to be reading more books. Settling to the mundane tasks of writing my own again is hard: who are these people, where are they, what are they doing and why? How much have I forgotten, what have I mislaid? For sure nothing new will come to me today, it's all about recovery. Luckily I did break off in mid-scene and I do remember roughly where I thought it was going, so I have something to work towards. But.

And it's not just the books. I was in the middle of doctory things, which I have to pick up again: phone calls, hospital appointments, like that. Under our Wonderful New System (TM) the NHS is obliged to offer me a choice of hospitals; unfortunately, the one two minutes' walk from my door is being slowly turned into a car park with a supermarket option, so my choice is limited to the one the other side of the city, or else somewhere else altogether. Yay for choice.

And I have to wait in for a delivery, which tried to come yesterday: the first-pass proofs of My Next Book, which are of course going to get thoroughly in the way of picking up my worky-threads again. I keep telling myself it will be Really Useful to read through vol one while I am marching vol two towards its conclusion - but, alas, I fear my capitals are properly ironic. (All together, children - how do we distinguish Greek Revival architecture? Ironic Capitals!)

So. I have made extra coffee, and am tentatively prodding all those things that were living when I left (does this include the cats, you ask? Why, yes! Cat-prodding is an amusing pastime, resulting as it does in blood-loss and other fascinations of biology). Including, apparently, LJ. It's another of those things that are easy to maintain with momentum, when it is a daily habit; take a few days away, and - oh, what do I have to say? My mind is not so much blank as muddled past extrication of anything useful. You know.

Comments

[kazdreamer.livejournal.com]

I love Ironic Capitals.

I hope the boys didn't miss you too much, while you were away.

You know, I went to Northampton once, and I saw Alan Moore at the station. I was dying to go up and say something to him - but of course I didn't. I was all shy, and he does look scary...

[bellinghman.livejournal.com]

Oh, he's a great pussycat.

[kazdreamer.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I've heard that since. *sigh* I should've taken my chance. He was wearing fabulous rings - that was going to be my opening gambit...

[bellinghman.livejournal.com]

I note your '4 days for a two day Con' with some amusement. For us, it was short enough we were able to leave the cats with a bit of extra food, and just pop over.

Contrariwise, this weekend, we will be travelling a day out and travelling a day back for the two day Irish Con.

Anyway, nice to chat with you, and I'm sure we'll interact a bit more in future.

[triciasullivan.livejournal.com]

Aww, you'll be OK. It's just a little loss of equilibrium.

I am like this most days, even without interruptions. Sometimes I open up the laptop and look at the screen and I'm just like, 'Whuh?'

It'll come. Yay for page proofs! Signs of concrete progress.

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Yup, exactly that: lost equilibrium, momentum drained away, I'm just sitting here picking and fumbling, working up to speed again.

Which the page proofs will instantly derail, of course (is that a mix of metaphor, or can I get away with images of self as steamtrain, that both works up to speed and runs on rails?). But, as you say. Page proofs.

If they ever get here. I have not yet grumbled seventeen times today about how I hate waiting in for deliveries... (And the last time it was Fedex, they made me wait till 4.30, snarl...)

[triciasullivan.livejournal.com]

Fedex?! Curses on them. The last time I was supposed to get something from Fedex, they neglected to call me, e-mail me or call the sender to say they had a problem, and just returned the package to NY claiming my address doesn't exist. I'm like, hellO? SFnal is great, but my house does in fact exist and every other courier on the planet manges to find it. This happened twice before the publisher gave up and used the post.

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Package did actually arrive, hurrah. With a bloody great hole in it, boo... (But I think all the pages are there, phew...)

[msagara.livejournal.com]

If I were male, had cats and could cook, this entire post would be me...

[desperance.livejournal.com]

You can have my cats (he said wearily, having spent half the day feeding them and the other half separating them from each other's throats), and I could teach you to cook. Then there'd only be the male/female thing to fix, and we'd have been separated at birth. Spooky...

[wishus.livejournal.com]

Hey, you were on my train going back to Brummagem. I saw your hat, disappearing up the stairs.

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Damn! I thought I'd very thoroughly checked I was alone. Now I have to kill you...