Beware the Plague

Bring out yer dead…HolyGrail003-1

Bring out yer dead…


You might have guessed by now, but I’m not very good at being sick.  I am, in fact, a big freaking baby when it comes to being sick.  And right now, at this very instant, I am as full of big-baby-ness as it’s possible to be.

220px-Biohazard_symbol_(black_and_yellow)Watch out — I bear the plague!

Okay, so, unlike the Black Death, this particular plague probably won’t kill over a third of the world’s population — hell, it probably won’t even kill me (in spite of my over-dramatizing) — but, well…  Whining can be fun when you feel like crap.  Just ask any four-year-old.

I did try to write this morning, however.  I figured I could get at least one decent hour of production, in spite of my patheticness.

You know what one line I managed to produce?  I don’t wanna go to school today, Mom!


Okay…I have to be tougher than this!  I think my brain and I need to have a talk about putting on our big-boy-pants and making stuff up for a few hours…  I mean, how the hell am I supposed to finish my story if all I want to do is watch RiffTrax movies and feel sorry for myself?

Update: Random music note — I’m listening to a new song from a favorite artist of mine (a cover of a Brandi Carlile tune), and it’s really good:

Fevered Imaginings

Important safety tip: the flu is a great time for weird, out-there thoughts and dreams with all the potential in the world to turn into cool stories. It is also, however, a terrible time for remembering those ideas…

Two nights in a row there were wonderfully interesting ideas.  And two mornings in a row there was a distinct lack of energy and focus with which to actually turn those fevered imaginings into something even so basic as a character or a setting.

Ah, well, such is life — it’s not like I need more little ghosts fluttering around the back of my mind demanding to be written.  I have enough of those, thank you very much.  Hell, there are a couple that date back to, err, well…

Let’s not get into how far they date back.

When I was young, I used to bitch and complain about writers who got distracted in the middle of a series. “How can you,” I would scream, “start writing something else right now?!  Finish the goddamned series first!”

Umm…okay, so I actually still do that.  I’m looking at you, Patrick Rothfuss…*

Ahem.  Let’s not get into that.

As a writer, though…

As a writer, I completely understand that urge to explore different characters and different stories.  There are so many stories to tell.  And, as I’ve said before, the next story is always the most interesting one.

Which, of course, does NOT mean the Kingkiller Chronicles can sit there unfinished without massive consequences!  Well, not without massive, ongoing nerd-rage, anyway.

Wait, what was I saying?

Crap, I can’t even claim a hangover, let alone a long New Year’s Eve, as an excuse for today’s random ramblings.  Nope, the plague get’s that particular credit.  Woohoo, sickness for the win!

Where was I?  Oh, yeah: finishing stories.

You — well, I — “budget” a trilogy at roughly 350,000 total words.  We — nope, still I — sit at the 200,000 word mark…and those fluttering ghosts still won’t shut the fuck up.  Those other damned stories still want to jump up and down and demand their own attention.

And I still want to listen.  Then again, in my defense, some of those stories sound like a lot of fun!

Those ideas, by the way, are precisely why this blog is semi-anonymous.  Not only do I write fiction with a pen-name, but the sci-fi and fantasy stories get different pen-names.  And 75% of those fluttering ghosts just happen to be fantasy stories.


I suppose there’s only one thing for it — time to get back to the writing…

*Just remember, Mr Rothfuss: even while you finish the third book, I still need my regular doses of Viari and Dreibus on Acquisitions, Inc!