someone give me a gold star
Being sick has felt like another extended weekend, since just like President's Day I didn't go out, do anything, socialize; I stayed home at the computer, wrote, read, cleaned, and watched DVDs.
For one, I'm over halfway through a novel (M. Monde Vanishes) I only started two days ago, and that's unheard of for me. Especially considering that I've gone through two more trade paperbacks of Brian K. Vaughan's superhero-as-mayor-of-New-York comic series Ex Machina as well.
But more importantly, I'm actually on page 20 of The World of Missing Persons, and although I'm not happy with several scenes, I'm pretty close to right-on-target for hitting my End-of-Act-One 30 page mark. I admit, in some places I've just written blah dialogue in order to fill the space, knowing the scene had to be there and they had to say something (most notably Victor's first lecture, and just about every scene with Nico). I already know some of what Writing Group (ahem, Andy) will say about it. I may not even bring as much as I've written, as far as the lecture scene, unless I can find a better way to make it work, since I know right now it's so terrible.
Anyway, holy shit I've written something. Most writing I've pulled off since Ellipsis last year (but back then I wasn't regularly employed, had just undergone tongue surgery, and hadn't fully moved in yet; I lived out of boxes and wrote on a fussy laptop in a corner of my unarranged room for three weeks straight -- oh yeah, and I didn't have any internet).
Tomorrow I'm getting some software from Jon so I can fix ol' Antarctica (even while I conspire with my bank account, my impending tax returns, and my parents to buy me a sexy new laptop). Antarctica is, I guess, the name of this computer. It's the name of the internal harddrive anyway. And it's been sick for a long time.
Right, so. Checking in. Going to bed. I want to write a little more, but I don't know. We'll see.
Twenty's a good start toward my May 1 goal of 100 (revised) pages. If I could do even twenty a week I'd be in okay shape. That feels like pushing hard, but then again, look what I just did.
For one, I'm over halfway through a novel (M. Monde Vanishes) I only started two days ago, and that's unheard of for me. Especially considering that I've gone through two more trade paperbacks of Brian K. Vaughan's superhero-as-mayor-of-New-York comic series Ex Machina as well.
But more importantly, I'm actually on page 20 of The World of Missing Persons, and although I'm not happy with several scenes, I'm pretty close to right-on-target for hitting my End-of-Act-One 30 page mark. I admit, in some places I've just written blah dialogue in order to fill the space, knowing the scene had to be there and they had to say something (most notably Victor's first lecture, and just about every scene with Nico). I already know some of what Writing Group (ahem, Andy) will say about it. I may not even bring as much as I've written, as far as the lecture scene, unless I can find a better way to make it work, since I know right now it's so terrible.
Anyway, holy shit I've written something. Most writing I've pulled off since Ellipsis last year (but back then I wasn't regularly employed, had just undergone tongue surgery, and hadn't fully moved in yet; I lived out of boxes and wrote on a fussy laptop in a corner of my unarranged room for three weeks straight -- oh yeah, and I didn't have any internet).
Tomorrow I'm getting some software from Jon so I can fix ol' Antarctica (even while I conspire with my bank account, my impending tax returns, and my parents to buy me a sexy new laptop). Antarctica is, I guess, the name of this computer. It's the name of the internal harddrive anyway. And it's been sick for a long time.
Right, so. Checking in. Going to bed. I want to write a little more, but I don't know. We'll see.
Twenty's a good start toward my May 1 goal of 100 (revised) pages. If I could do even twenty a week I'd be in okay shape. That feels like pushing hard, but then again, look what I just did.