In today’s installment of me apologizing for not updating my blog regularly, I would happily like to report that the delays are 85% due to me working on a little manuscript known as Ten and only 15% due to random crap on the internet taking my free time and flushing it down the virtual toilet.
I suppose it would be best to give you a small insight as to exactly what happens when I start writing a book. It starts with a great deal of whining, followed closely by scribbling notes on everything available, and then I start wandering around my kitchen late at night muttering obscure ramblings under my breath. Thankfully, my family is now used to this and I haven’t been committed.
Once I have a solid body of incoherent notes that only make sense to me, I will sit and stare at a blank screen for at least a solid two to three days (hah, OK, it’s usually weeks). It’s at this point you will find me doing things like posting on social media and blogging my wee heart out. I’ll even be super productive at my day job until one terrifying moment where the monsters come out. Those monsters simply love to eat my brain.
It starts with a trickle. I’ll write a page or two, pat myself on the back and move on. Then those couple pages will turn into an hour of missing time… then it becomes three of four hours a night. Finally, I end up shuffling around my home and office like a zombie, using copious amounts of caffeine and meditation techniques to bring myself back to the present. Sometimes it’s like a movie is on repeat in my head and I have to walk three miles at lunch just to let it play out while dodging suicidal caterpillars and other hapless individuals simply trying to walk at lunch.
I’m now at that point where I start forgetting things like where my keys are. I move from task to task, using all the energy I can just to do a herculean task such as remember my name or where I parked. Sentences remained unfinished, posts remain unread, and basically I appear to be a hollow shell of my normal self by day.
By night however, the voices in my head come out to play. The words rush out of me like kids on the last day of school, and eventually a manuscript is done. I hope that the upcoming flood is worth it, and I’ll try to keep you updated when I’m more coherent.
Mada ikite iru…
- R. E. Carr