One week into March. How does it look? Well… *does Balamory hand flutter with rainbows made out of bubbles*
Actions Last Week
Write 4.5k words of ‘On A Knife Point’ (that’s 500 a day if my maths is right)
Done. More like 10k give or take 100 words. Yes, I know, I was supposed to be resting, but I’ve had some thoughts on this. And I’ll talk about them later on.
Highlight ‘Silk Over Razor Blades’ passages that need work
Similar to the last time I wrote a target like this, I’ve changed it. I’m reading the novel and working as I go. It’s slightly slower, yes, but at this stage, with the novel so clear in my mind, I think it’s safe. I wouldn’t normally do this. It’s a great way to edit forever, in usual cases, but I reread the email from Angry Robot and I have my notes from reading the proof copy. That should be plenty. I need to be able to let this novel go and I can’t let this next bout of editing become an excuse. I’m already four months behind the original deadline… I want to meet the new one so I can let it go and move on.
Activities For The Week
- Complete x10 chapters of specific ‘Silk Over Razor Blades’ edits, looking at Lenina’s reactions to big plot points, the romantic build between her and Tristen and dialogue of both characters, plus that of Saar, Nick and Ramona (and Verni actually)
- Write 10k words of ‘On A Knife Point.’
I went to the doctor this morning. I’m actually quite sick. I have blood tests tomorrow for cholesterol, blood sugar and thyroid. I have an appointment with the nurse for weight management and (*gasp*) no shame in saying, I’ve been referred to a counsellor too (again). I’ll let DSB talk about this is more detail another time, but let’s just say there is a lot going on.
But…! At the beginning of last week I ‘took it easy.’ I stopped working in big chunks, had the whole of Wednesday off and even stuck to the 500 words a day. Even when I was itching to do more.
By Thursday I wanted to chew my arm off. And the arms off anyone else who came near. Getting out the house on Friday night helped a little, but what helped MUCH more was going to my critique group on the Saturday morning, even with my destroyed voice and hacking cough, to read and later record a podcast. Once I’d done those things, I barely felt the sore throat.
Cue revelation: it’s not working too hard at writing that’s making me sick. It’s being in general poor health and doing too much in around the house/outside the house/with the boys without enough help from external sources that’s making me sick. To quote my doctor I’m ‘run down’ and that’s by life, not by writing – a fact she agrees with, by the way.
Writing, editing, working on book covers, marketing and whatever else I have to do as an indie… that’s my rest. I feel so energised, alive and fresh after a good session of whatever I’m working on at the time. I feel happy and more able to cope with harder life stuff because I’ve done something for me. Because this is for me. Writing is my thing. I don’t do it for anyone else but me. It’s when I don’t work that I get stressed and twitchy and have all manner of late nights trying to get some in so I feel better.
When people saying writing is cathartic, they aren’t kidding. By Saturday, when I sat down in the evening and let the words flow, I could feel all the week’s stresses melting. They were still there, of course they were, but much less by the time I was done. All this work I do, the blog, even Raven’s smut, it’s therapy.
Part of me thinks I’m the luckiest person in the world. In fact I am. My job, my chosen profession, is not only a means to earn a little bit of cash, but also a way to stop me going slowly round the bend. I wonder how many other people can say that about their jobs?