It's the boy's 7th birthday today. It's already the third month of the year. Am slowly making progress on the book, fewer words per day than I think I've ever had. Not a day over a 1000 in the last week. I'm not sure why this one is like pulling teeth. The early parts came out fairly smooth and fast but this bit is dribbling out in drabs. Painfully. The blood on the forehead type of writing.
I keep wondering if I need to just go back and work on the Death book for a while. Or anything else. But I also know I have to just get on with it.
And meanwhile, I've been devouring manga and anime. I've been in the mood for romance. Slice of life stuff. Things like that. Maybe that's part of my problem. I'm writing about offing people with wine openers and full on bloodshed but have been reading all these girly things. Not sure why.
That doesn't usually bother me though or affect my writing. I am, however, always my own worst enemy. There's a good chance I'm a bit afraid of finishing this book. I kind of want to kill it with fire at the same time that I want to place all my hopes in it. It's too much to put on one book.
It has made me realise, however, what it is that I like about writing YA. It's that first flush of new love -- you can't get that same feeling in an adult book because it's been there, done that. There's only one first love, first kiss, first everything. There's an intenseness in that first time for everything.
Sometimes I wish I could go back to that time, but only if I could be the me that I am now. Not that I've ever grown up. Does anyone? The older you get, the better you get at faking it. Faking knowing what you are doing. But I am more comfortable in my own skin now. I know what my strengths and weaknesses are. Can't always do anything about them, but I know what they are. And I care less about what people think of me. I'm happy when I'm alone, watching people. I don't need people like I used to. I don't derive my own worth through my connections anymore.
I suppose that's good and bad.
My brain is wandering all over the place today like a cloud blown this way and that by the North wind. I was going to write down a list of the manga I've been reading to keep track of it, but I've already wasted too much time.
And spent more words in the last 10 minutes writing this than I've written on the damn book. Seriously, what is with this one?? I like Hildie. I just can't seem to see these few characters that need to carry me through the next chapters. Why? What's with them? I can't see them. They are hazy, hiding in the shadows.
Maybe I need to go back and read from the beginning. Get back in the flow.
Maybe I need to write something else for a day or two.
Maybe I need to bust out some poetry and really go all maudlin.
Gotta do something. Because this isn't working right now.
It could also be that I'm tired, so desperately tired. Haven't been sleeping enough. And it's all my own fault. Well, mostly. Some of it is the hubby's fault and the fact that he has to sleep on his back right now since he broke his collarbone and is snoring like some kind of super lumberjack. But mostly it's me.
Like I said, I am my own worst enemy.