Writerly Neurosis #324: Whenever I go for an extended period without writing, I start doubting myself and my ability to pull the plow. I feel like a fraud, a poseur. If, during such moments, someone asks me how the writing is going, I smile and give some automatic "Fine, thanks." But inside, I die a little.
Then I start writing something new, and that goes away. For a while.
So I started something new on Sunday. I don’t even have a working title at this point. But it seems like just what the doctor ordered. I still need to do a rewrite of From Earth I Have Arisen, and that would have been a perfectly acceptable project to work on, but I felt like I could get a little more distance from that piece if I completed some small, totally unrelated project first. This new story should be short–although given my track record estimating length, take that for what it’s worth–but it will be enough to occupy my brain for a bit.
And hey, new story. (Accompanied, no doubt, by all those other neuroses.)
Also, at some point this week, I have to get ready for our tax guy’s annual appearance. Oh, joy. Stress? What stress?
Write Club updates:
Tier one rejections from Basement Stories, Apex, and Daily Science Fiction. Response times: one month, 16 days, and 19 days, respectively.
I’m out.
