It’s Tuesday. Again. And for those of us with children, we’re in the final ramp-up to school things. Wee-er Dave is there at this moment, doing her utmost to begin her conquering army. Daddy’s so proud. Himself is home until Friday, the two of them attending different schools, this year. I promised him we’d do something fun while his sister is getting to have fun. After today, because I have to work.
Speaking of work, Monday starts the “both littles in school all morning so Dave writes for a few hours” gig. Honestly, I can barely see that far ahead. I’m going to work on the space opera thing that desperately needs a real title. I’ve posted the first chapter in here, before. I’m about 30k and change into it, and I’m hoping to finish it within a month or so.
So what’s today about? I have no idea. My brain is foggy, as I’ve spent the last several weeks run ragged minding the kiddos. Our own Sarah nabbed a Dragon Award for Best Alternative History Novel, along with friend-of-the-blog Kevin J. Anderson for their novel Uncharted (the whiskey zombies are the best).
In other news, everybody seems to be having a rough year. It seems that since the economy has eased (I base this on people having more money and getting jobs. Also, the various numbers coming from various places) everybody has moved out of survival and run smack up against the various emotional stuff that get suppressed so you can make it from day to day. I sure have.
I don’t have anything for you, though. No solutions, no advice, not even a drop of gasoline for the fire. Just this: you’re not alone in the suckage. Just that. The phrase is “it’s always darkest before the dawn.” While that may be true from a purely orbital sense, I suspect in the realm of human emotions, it’s more like “it always feels darkest before morning nautical twilight,” though that doesn’t ring as well.
Morning nautical twilight is that time when it’s just started to get light. You can make out shapes, and the stars are fading as the sun makes its oppressive presence known. But – and here’s the trick – you can’t tell a black thread from a white while staring at them.
I think a lot of us are flailing about in what amounts to morning nautical twilight. We’re struggling with truly heinous stuff, but for one reason or another (or several) we can’t quite make out what’s actually going on. The good news about morning nautical twilight is the sun comes up, and you can see.
So maybe I do have something, after all. Keep on, with diligence, as the sun *will* come up. In the meantime, I’ll be working on focus, and just maybe, a novel.