Whaddaya mean this is the first post of the month and the month is almost gone? Haven’t you been keeping up? I mean I have lots of things to say about stuff. Okay, fine. It’s the first post since the end of November. I can admit when I’m wrong. Sometimes. Happy?
For your information I’ve been sick again. And feeling a general blur of malaise. Right before I got sick again I was feeling pretty gung-ho about editing THL. The sicker I got and the more time that went by (okay, it’s only been a week), the more I crawled beneath my rock of discomfort and angst and let the little demons whisper in my ears about how much the whole idea sucks and no one is ever going to want to read it, et cetera, et cetera.
I signed up for Jano in early December with the conditional: you know you don’t have to do this, no one is forcing you. In an effort to frighten off the worry-boogers (Per dictionary.com : Chiefly South Midland and Southern U.S. any ghost, hobgoblin, or other frightening apparition), I went back to THL and started editing.
Erm, I’ve hit a dead end, but it’s okay. No, really. It’s okay because I think I know how to rewrite the beginning. Except that stills leaves me at a dead stall where I’m . . . er, dead stalled. But, wait!
I sustained a blow to the head (oh, please, Allison, you were on foot, walking at a grand total of maybe .0005 miles per hour) and the plot for the third installment blossomed into my sore and battered head about three hours later. In a flash of brilliance that surprised me beyond anything I’ve ever imagined. Even better than TT. I swear. It’s a Festivus Miracle.
So. Christmas is approaching and following that, New Years. You know my creed: I never, ever, never, ever, don’t-do-it-anymore-can’t-make-me-ain’t-happenin’-so-don’t-bother-askin’-cause-I’m-gonna-say-no, make a New Years’ Resolution. If you were wondering, I’m not making one. I always botch them within the first week or two, so what’s the point? Self-improvement? I laugh in the face of self-improvement! Or, more aptly, swear in the face of it. Gosh-darnit, I just can’t stop swearing. That was my last resolution and I figure pretty much it’ll take something way stronger than a Festivus Miracle to get that to stop. My last words will no doubt be: oh, shit.
Plans for the New Year: Step it up. I’m a dawdler. A whiner. A victim of a nasty internal editor and her legion of hell-spawned demons. I hate her. So, I’m going to kill her. My plan for this coming year (God willing it will not be a repeat of this year where everything I touched turned to poo) is to be better. Learn faster. Write less, edit more. Synopses are not hard–I’m going to keep telling myself that until it becomes true. I’m going to throttle every demon that looks at me funny and I’m going to finish this trilogy, edit the hell out of it and submit it. I’m going to be one of those people who gets things done! That’s not a resolution. It’s a plan. A declaration.