Got my second chapter for Masters to continue with, got my shitty YA werewolf novel to finish up, got another couple of novels I’d really love to make some headway with, a novel to kill for the third time and absorb the life force of to fuel my other writing – I’m busy. I’m just not actually doing any of the things I’m busy with.
Which is a shame, because I enjoy being busy. It’s frustrating to know that I enjoy being busy and then doing all sorts of things to prevent myself from getting caught up in and enjoying it. So today I need to actually do some of this stuff, start spending time instead of saving it, I’m sure I can think of a few more catchphrases if you give me a minute but no I just want, and need, to write.
Also to read. Just maybe not the stuff I bought; I need to read for research. I’m very invested in these two other novels I want to get started, and in order to write them as well as I’d like I need some material to work with. I need to learn about fencing, the reality of fighting with swords; I need to get more familiar with witch tropes and conventions and general literature; I need to learn how to write a decent sex scene – I need a lot of stuff to go right before I can write. And I want to do it. I hate having to fight myself to do the things I actually enjoy doing. Yay general self-loathing, depression and anxiety.
No. Not yay. Very not yay.
But it’s still fine because I’m going to write stuff today. And when I kill that novel for the third time I expect it to be a satisfactory charm. I need and want to move on from that. 15 years of effort can’t go nowhere, even if the object of that effort doesn’t. The object has become an obstacle and needs to be removed and, once it is, the effort will come flooding back out to me and I can do something else with it – that’s my hope anyway. I just need to find a way to get rid of it that feels real.
Anyway. Writing today.