There are 2,316 new words in The Moments of Being Pandora. I wasn’t aware that they were piling up like that. A pleasant surprise, after feeling like I was working uphill all afternoon.
Also, there have been four and a half loads of laundry done. Go me! And two more small meals eaten. Yikes.
After an entire frustrating morning of having my Owldaughter server down, it’s back. A slew of spam has just been released through my site-related e-mail accounts, but not a single bit of e-mail I was hoping for — namely, shiny and effulgent messages of “We loved your editing test, please work for us!” from at least one of the handful of jobs I’ve applied for over the past two weeks.
Teh Sicque is still dogging our steps in this house. After dealing with HRH being under the weather for the past handful of days, and Liam dealing with whatever it is that almost-twos deal with (like molars you can’t yet see and frustration with limits and the desire to brush tiny teeth seven times daily and disinterest in food other than crackers and the need to watch a movie over and over and over again when we’re limiting TV time), I find that today I’m quite tired. Liam’s regular Monday with the caregiver was switched for today, and I’ve done some writing, but it’s going so very slowly and I’m fighting deep physical exhaustion. I’ve eaten twice since breakfast, but I’m still flopsy. I’m loath to go curl up under the afghan and doze because then I’ll feel like I’ve lost the day. I don’t even have a good book to read, although last night I pulled Patricia Wrede’s Snow White Rose Red off the shelf to be reread when I finished the latest Nora Roberts fluff with which I was distracting myself. Actually, I don’t really want to read, which alarms me.
I’m also experiencing stupid little crises centered around how I feel like I’m only pretending to be a real writer, and if I’ve published three books shouldn’t I feel different, and have more to show for it? And if/when my fiction gets published, will that better validate my work in my own eyes? Who knows. The mice in the wheel that powers my brain can take a break, though, because I feel like I’m chasing my own inadequacies in circles today.
If it weren’t minus 33 with the windchill out there, I’d go for a walk to clear my brain, get a drink, and perhaps treat myself to an Easter Creme Egg.
I have no idea what to do for dinner this evening. My meal creativity ran out last night.
Back to work. I’m going to start skipping scenes in Pandora and expanding the ones that exist in note form. I’ll go back and bridge them later, when I have the energy to write transitions properly.