at long last it's crashed, its colossal mass is broken up into bits

Turns out the man who came to clean the windows today also loves Doctor Who. Go figure. Synchronicity is a strange and wondrous thing.

I just wish it would work for the novel. Today, because I cannot figure out what happens next in the current novel, I worked on revisions to the previous novel. I still don't feel any good, though, for all that I managed progress. Because it wasn't the right progress, see. So I still feel stuck, stuck, stuck. It's not my favourite feeling. Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal.

Deb Biancotti had a post up recently, about how doing "Nothing. Not a single thing." still counted as writing. Which I loved, but which still doesn't make me feel any better about not having gotten the words I wanted today. That could be because she was talking about filling the creative well, whereas my current problem has more to do with the creative well being buried beneath concrete and me without a jackhammer. One thing I will say, however, is menial jobs or mindless exercise has never worked for me as a way of getting the juice back again. I can stuff envelopes all I want, and sure I won't be concentrating on the envelope-stuffing after a while. What will I be thinking about? Probably the state of my hunger at this precise moment, or the various imperfections in the window nearby, or what kind of child makes a noise just like that. Mind like water, always flowing, never holding on to anything. It's very calming and soothing, yes. But mental productivity? Not so much.

21 thoughts on “at long last it's crashed, its colossal mass is broken up into bits

  1. And suddenly there was a great earthquake, which was caused by continental plates moving around, BUT THEY WILL THINK IT WAS TEH DARK LORD. AGAIN.

    Or suddenly an assassin jumped out of the bushes and tried to assissinate them all using only chopsticks.

    Or there were fairies. Pink ones.

  2. Heh. Thanks. I think I might go with a poisoning, actually. Just for some nasty that I haven't tried. Although I don't think I've tried assassins with chopsticks as their weapon of choice, come to think of it.

  3. …probably because chopsticks aren't an assassin's weapon of choice.

    Would you like some cowboy twang? I just bought a CD from a busker down here. I can't even find him in the internet, but he has cowboy twang and harmonicas soooooooo good.

  4. But maybe they should be. Small and innocuous and won't set off metal detectors. Just a bit…blunt. And one imagines splintery. Still, a ninja! would no doubt know how to use them to deadly effect.

    And cowboy twang – yes please!

  5. You know the most ridiculous weapon I have ever seen in a movie? A piece of rice paper. In a Hong Kong period martial arts flick called "Burning Paradise", the super bad guy is behind his desk, slams his hand down on a couple of sheets of paper and then throws them at our two heroes. It was like throwing metal discs. The paper stabbed into the stone wall on the other side of the room and stuck there.

    I've always wanted to stick something like that in one of my stories, but I figure it would be severely shot down.

    I shall commence uploadification as soon as I'm done ripping.

  6. Now that is brilliant. And I shall write it into my ninja wombat story that has been percolating in the back of my brain for far too long. Because if a wombat can be a ninja, then decapitative rice paper is also possible.

  7. Did you say ninja wombat? Dude. You did say it. You're going to have to write that story now, whether you like it or not.

  8. Dude, I said ninja wombat. It was a dare, quite a whiles ago, by Gregory. How could I resist that? Still haven't figured out quite what I want to do with the story, but it will happen. I'm quite fond of her, the little ninja wombat.

  9. You know the fat ninja always dies, right? Fat ninjas are like token black guys – THEY DIE.

    I had a recent brain (FARK! CAN'T TYPE) asplode about a novel for the tidal rig world. Muses have lousy timing.

  10. Ah. Well, that could be a viable plot point. Or at least one foreseeable enough to provide tension. We shall see. If she dies, though, that will turn the story into a tragi-comedy, and I don't know how good I'll be at that.

    I'd like a tidal rig novel, dude. You know, when you have time. After making nuclear fission 100% safe and single-handedly cleaning up the environment and all.

  11. What? Dude, what? Noo-kler? I want to finish the novel I'm working on first, bugger all that other stuff!

    I'm having a remarkably easy time with sendspace. I am wary.

  12. It's no world I've dabbled in before. I'm not entirely sure where it came from, probably a combination of watching Firefly and Cowboy Bebop and Star Wars and Battlestar Galactica etc in close proximity.

    The story itself is pretty standard, you know, slumbering badass wakes up and goes badass on the solar system and yonder band of merry men must save the day. Not that they want to.

    It was supposed to be a character exercise, actually. I figured what better way to get practice at writing character interaction than having a bunch of people trapped in a not that big space ship for weeks on end? The stuff with the solar system danger was an accident.

    I figure if I can just FINISH one novel, then I have hope.

  13. Yeah, it did, but I was giving it the overnight to re-consider. Sometimes they resurface.

    My question was something like: what do you mean by the concrete? Is it writer's block, a busy internal editor, doubt & mental lethargy, something else entirely?

  14. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what it is. I'm hesitant to call it writer's block, because what the hell is that anyway? It seems too broad a term to be meaningful anymore. The busy internal editor is always present, as is doubt and mental lethargy. I think in this case, though, it was being stuck on the novel. I knew some things that had to happen, but I knew they weren't supposed to happen just yet, and frustratingly I could not for the life of me figure out how to get from here to there. I tried to go back and reevaluate what I'd written for clues, but that just made me more frustrated by everything I'd left out!

    I hate being frustrated. It makes me very cranky and pent and, frankly, largely useless 😐

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