Decemberment

Hey people--
Hope you all survived Thanksgiving. It ushers in my least favorite time of year. I continue to be conflicted about this-- wondering what my damage is. I don't hate my family, or winter, although elves are a little creepy. I have lots of friends, and am not destitute, so I can't lay claim to any logical reason for not liking the holidays. I just don't. I don't like having a bunch of extra crap to do just "because I'm supposed to." I guess it pokes the part of me that will always stamp its foot and yell, "You are not the boss of me!" I refuse to be holidazzled.

I just wrote a bunch more stuff about this but ended it with "yuck" then deleted it all. Aren't you glad?

So, still in writing mode, and it's going pretty well. I get about 2- 3k words down a day, and running really helps pull all the threads together. My characters are pretty good about showing me other angles that my meager outline didn't cover. I can't tell you how happy I'll be when the whole agent search is over though, and, beyond that, when a publisher picks me up. I can do the writing part. I can submerge myself in it completely. I'd love to have someone giving me revision suggestions-- notes and stuff. What I don't enjoy, like all you other writery types, is the process of trying to get published.

The recurring thought that all the thousands of words that have become your life may never see the light of day is enough to drive you nuts.

I read a comic one time where a genie showed up and asked a guy to pick between doing nothing but mindless, unfulfilling work all day, or worthwhile, satisfying work, only to have it burned in front of him at the end of each day. he said, "Hmm, they both sound better than my job."

For now I have to just keep doing my part, which for the time being includes all the gross querying and writing synopsis's etc-- but I do get that I'm very lucky to even have that choice to make. If I was pulling a lever all day, or cleaning toilets-- well, then I'd have something to really whine about right?