THE WALL

Okay, I admit it.

I have hit THE WALL.

It's that point when you look at your WIP and you say ... "Oh, ice. What have I done?" (At least, you say that if you're me. Because I, uh, pick up some in-world language from my characters.) And then? Then you put your head on the keyboard and cry. That wild, intoxicating rush that Horizons once was.

It's gone. And I can't help but feel like it's gone forever. How did I do this, I ask myself. How did I manage to dig myself such a deep hole while writing so joyously?

The truth is, I was ignoring the problems. I should have noticed when that one thread started to feel a little awkward. I should have realized that I couldn't wait to get away from my MC, and I should have fixed the problem right then. But I didn't. And now I have 15,000 wasted words that I need to replace with new ones.

Okay, that looks really pathetic written out like that. But it is DEVASTATING. Perhaps it's that I'm ill, or that I have the constant stress of school looming over my head, but lately every word feels like it's being wrenched from my brain with a ... wrench, probably. What else is good for wrenching?

I don't think I've ever felt this discouraged by my writing. I'm so discouraged, in fact, that I did NOTHING today -- or I guess it's yesterday now. Despite my many looming self-imposed deadlines, I spent the whole day checking my Facebook and catching up on other people's blogs. And chatting with crit partners/best friends, because honestly? That IS what keeps me alive right now. (Warmth knows I can't eat enough food to do the job.) (One of these crit partners, by the way, is reading the climax of Sarawen AS I WRITE THIS. And it's 3:30 AM her time. And she has triplet babies to help care for. I am awed by the awesomeness of Lisa.) (Also, I freaking love her to pieces. Although that seems a little violent for someone who is going on 4 hours of sleep for me. For the second time in ... what is it? A week?)

So yeah. I am at the point where random shadows on the wall seem to say 'You suck. Your writing sucks. You are never going to be anything close to anything.' (And even my evil voices don't usually say 'suck', because I have a particular grudge against that word.) Getting through these next weeks ... well, it's not going to be fun.

But at the same time, I am so lucky. No, I'm not lucky. I'm BLESSED. And when I find myself starting to complain ... I'll probably keep complaining. But I won't for one second forget how wonderful my life is. Even when I hate it.

Life is wonderful. You are all wonderful. Please don't let me forget.

Cough Cough

So, I didn't go to school today. I haven't had to for a whole week. You might expect that I've written, I dunno ... twenty or thirty thousand words in that time?

Nope. Not even close. Total is closer to 6k.

That's cause I'm sick. My head is pounding, my nose is running, and my coughing sounds like a rabid wolf is caught in my throat. These are not conditions conducive to writing, people! Especially when I'm still unable to chew after jaw surgery. To top it all off, Horizons is being difficult. I think it's caught my illness ... or maybe something different, as it seems to be throwing up regularly. I'm frantically scrubbing off the vomit and trying to fix the problems, but it's SO FRUSTRATING.

SO VERY FRUSTRATING.

On the bright side, I just gained a new crit partner. (Or rather, I entrusted an established crit partner with Sarawen.) And she is awesome. Awesome enough to stay up until 4am reading. That might be all that keeps me moving forward right now. What would we ever do without friends?

Anyway, I have no mental energy. So again, I am turning to a snippet from my book. (Sarawen, this time.) I hope this makes enough sense out of context for SOMEBODY to laugh at it.

"Are you ... Did you just ask me to marry you?"
"No!" he blurted. "I ... I asked you to consider ... it."


Drat. That was much funnier in context. I'll leave it anyway. I've got urgent matters to attend to. You know -- Cough, sniffle, blow nose, repeat ...