(no subject)
Jess has been successfully poured onto a train to Paris, and I have written myself a horrible to-do list featuring mostly things I kind of want to do and one thing I would rather eat my own legs than do. As is the way of to-do lists, it has become a branchy to-do TREE, and I am writing this entry in between typing up the missing scene from BBB that I wrote in the cafe at the British Library just now (bribing myself with a very nice hot chocolate because Peyton and Byrne oh yes), and with one hand reaching over every now and then to coax my netbook into uninstalling every program it can conceivably function without (why the jibbly tits did I listen to advice on using Storybook? It takes up space on my hard-drive and I've used it a grand total of once before going back to my usual method of using spreadsheets and ten thousand notepad files and part of me is still envious of people who use index cards. No need to complicate matters with technology. Either you can write, or you can't) .
Deleting various programs does not, however, seem to have speeded this hunk of junk up any.
At least stewing in my own incompetence and doing shit-all nothing for six solid months has given me the impetus to do SOMETHING now: there's a full-length manuscript sitting with an agent, waiting on rejection so I can send it to the next one on the list (my goal is to get rejected by more people than a specific one of my friends); there's one short story sitting with a magazine, waiting on rejection so I can hunt out another that might take it (I've got a spreadsheet, I'm serious about getting this thing rejected from every magazine there is); there's another one waiting for submissions to open on another magazine so I can get it rejected more; I suppose I should start sending out poems again too. I'm working on BBB properly at last, and then I am free to dither relentlessly over which project to start next (logic says Magicians, because I have the most watertight plot for that and the most familiarity with the characters and a lot of research material and Nny will give me biscuits if I do).
Tragically one of the entries on my to-do list is "look for jobs" because I am the queen of broke. I'm also p stressed by the notion that after this jaunt in Europe I probably won't get to see Jess again at all ever. >:(
Life rolls on. Summer is a good time for being reasonably sanguine in, even if night does make it hard to chase out the panic about the state of the world and the state of my bank balance and the future of the country I live in: winter will be harder. Fucking woopee.
Deleting various programs does not, however, seem to have speeded this hunk of junk up any.
At least stewing in my own incompetence and doing shit-all nothing for six solid months has given me the impetus to do SOMETHING now: there's a full-length manuscript sitting with an agent, waiting on rejection so I can send it to the next one on the list (my goal is to get rejected by more people than a specific one of my friends); there's one short story sitting with a magazine, waiting on rejection so I can hunt out another that might take it (I've got a spreadsheet, I'm serious about getting this thing rejected from every magazine there is); there's another one waiting for submissions to open on another magazine so I can get it rejected more; I suppose I should start sending out poems again too. I'm working on BBB properly at last, and then I am free to dither relentlessly over which project to start next (logic says Magicians, because I have the most watertight plot for that and the most familiarity with the characters and a lot of research material and Nny will give me biscuits if I do).
Tragically one of the entries on my to-do list is "look for jobs" because I am the queen of broke. I'm also p stressed by the notion that after this jaunt in Europe I probably won't get to see Jess again at all ever. >:(
Life rolls on. Summer is a good time for being reasonably sanguine in, even if night does make it hard to chase out the panic about the state of the world and the state of my bank balance and the future of the country I live in: winter will be harder. Fucking woopee.