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Feels like Monday
Mar. 19th, 2002 09:16 amThis weekend was just too fuckin' hectic, even given the lazy sunny Sunday afternoon I spent reading The Peshawar Lancers. So. Not talking about it.
I drabbled yesterday. 113 words, and I'm unsatisfied because it's not complete, not in the least. I scribbled something in Ali's notebook on Saturday night - just a little Methos POV, and again, not a finished piece. Somewhere in the middle of this, I'm looking at my WIP folder and wondering how did I ever get anything written in the first place?
It's frustrating now because the only things I can seem to finish are the ultra short bits - the ones I can pick up and snapshot a scene, and that's not what I want to be writing. It's not that I think I suck at them, it's that I want to be doing more.
It's hard at the house - I'd rather sit around the living room or the kitchen and talk about life, the universe and slash with my roomies than hole up in my room and write, pace and agonize about what phrase fits best. See, that's what I did last night - puttered in the kitchen with my candle wax and talked to Ali, and when I did get in front of my computer, I just played with Photoshop a wee bit.
See! New Icon! Laurier in a snit because I had him on his back. He's such a beautiful cat.
Of course, this whole woe-is-me entry? I blame Ali - she gave me the cold that's sucking out all of my energy. I want to go home and curl up with the cats and nap, and I'm stuck here at work. Woe! I'll probably force her at keyboard point (or whatever else is handy) to make me hot chocolate tonight to make up for it.
I drabbled yesterday. 113 words, and I'm unsatisfied because it's not complete, not in the least. I scribbled something in Ali's notebook on Saturday night - just a little Methos POV, and again, not a finished piece. Somewhere in the middle of this, I'm looking at my WIP folder and wondering how did I ever get anything written in the first place?
It's frustrating now because the only things I can seem to finish are the ultra short bits - the ones I can pick up and snapshot a scene, and that's not what I want to be writing. It's not that I think I suck at them, it's that I want to be doing more.
It's hard at the house - I'd rather sit around the living room or the kitchen and talk about life, the universe and slash with my roomies than hole up in my room and write, pace and agonize about what phrase fits best. See, that's what I did last night - puttered in the kitchen with my candle wax and talked to Ali, and when I did get in front of my computer, I just played with Photoshop a wee bit.
See! New Icon! Laurier in a snit because I had him on his back. He's such a beautiful cat.
Of course, this whole woe-is-me entry? I blame Ali - she gave me the cold that's sucking out all of my energy. I want to go home and curl up with the cats and nap, and I'm stuck here at work. Woe! I'll probably force her at keyboard point (or whatever else is handy) to make me hot chocolate tonight to make up for it.
