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Posts by kilteDave

When I’m 640

Goodness, me. We survived the annual Giving of Thanks. I, myself, performed the ritual roasting-in-effigy of Lord Gobble the Tyrant, and even managed to get the sides all done together, and still warm. And the pie (the pie was really good), too. An extra-long weekend was survived by all, with some small planning and purchasing done. No writing, though, which galls. I’m glad I wasn’t doing NaNoWriMo this year (not really, at least). I just can’t manage that level of output right now, which is also galling. I don’t even have a chapter for you, this week. I’ll be back at that next week, though.
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Drowning Mind

Here, we go. It’s Tuesday, and the Wee Horde are on Thanksgiving Break as of this afternoon. I’m not enormously thrilled by this development. I just barely survived the last five day weekend, and I’ve developed some delightful upper respiratory crud recently. While I’m hitting it with a full court press (minus prescription antibiotics, which require a middleman) and actually feeling fairly decent, that still grinds on the ability to do, well, anything. Aaaaaand, we’re charging headlong into the holiday season. Plots are in motion, games are afoot (and sometime a-hand), and I’m not ready. I’m never ready. Can one be ready?
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A Temporary Reprieve

The chaos and madness in Hong Kong is interfering with writing. Shocking, I know. Anyway, Mrs. Dave is home, and we’re all adjusting. I’ve been sleeping poorly, but everything else is better, which is nice. Wee Dave and Wee-er Dave are ecstatic to have Mommy home. And we’re charging breakneck into the busiest period of increasingly full years. I’m not ready. I’m getting awfully tired of being the guy in nominal charge, too. The word mines are pretty dark, right now, too. I’m getting some choice nuggets out, but I’d rather expand my operations, so to speak. It’s just not happening.

But you aren’t here to listen to me whine. I have fiction, though not as much as I want. I’m still hitting some snags with the current thing. I knew exactly where I was going up to a certain point. Now I’ve hit that, and I keep getting ideas. As any writer knows, ideas are a two edged sharp thingy, which can cut you instead of what you want to cut. I also may have written myself into a bit of a corner. I’m still evaluating. I’ll be honest: I’m kicking that can down the road a bit. I’ll be back next week with more. I appreciate your forbearance.

Wise Counsel

I’m cautiously optimistic. I’m digging into light boxes for SAD, which is a thing this far north, let alone on the coast. (Lots of clouds, lots of the time.) I’ve spent my evenings after the children are abed applying pigment to tiny orcs. I’m minded of the Indian in the Cupboard, and thankful Omri never put Dread Cthulhu in the cupboard (nobody puts Cthulhu in the cupboard, ftagn). This, or rather the non-writing, somewhat-creative, alpha state-ish time it affords me, seems to be helping to even out the emotional rollercoaster of single-hand parenting of two small and precocious near-human creatures.
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Reverie

Is not the title of what I’m doing here. That’s the chapter title, as I hope will become clear. I’m … well, we have two more weeks until Mommy gets home, so unless I manage to get my feet under me, it’ll be about three to four weeks until I have anything like a groove back. So to speak. In an effort to bring about just such a shift in my personal condition, I’m pursuing two steps. The first, is more (and more consistent) physical exercise. The other is pursuit of more frequent flow state.
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Asking Questions

I’m feeling better, but the fiction is still not playing. I spend a lot of time dealing with the Wee Horde’s needs, even when they’re in school. Errands still need running, food still needs cooking, and the gears of domesticity continue to grind. I’m not the hugest fan, meself. And I’m feeling a bit ground. I say this every time Mrs. Dave travels, but this one feels different, and I’m not thrilled with it. But enough about that.
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My Apologies

I don’t have a lot of humor, today. Frankly, I’m struggling. The littles are taking most of my energy, and I don’t have much left for normal things, let alone writing. Which, while it should be normal, hasn’t been. I’ve been trying to write the next chapter all week, and been getting nothing.

Admittedly, it’s a weird chapter. I think it’s supposed to be very cerebral, but I’ll let you know once it’s done. I’m trying to describe a very disjointed series of events. It’s an exercise in Show, Don’t Tell, and I think will be more interesting to read than glossing over with “weird stuff happened.” Unfortunately, between the sheer strangeness of the passage, and the week sans Mrs. Dave, I’m not proving equal to the task. I’ll update this if I can hammer it out in the next bit, but I don’t want to leave you all hanging. My apologies.