Just a quick post before I go to bed.
Health problems suck when all you’ve got is catastrophic insurance. I started breaking out in this weird rash last week, and I went into the clinic today. It was seventy five dollars well spent, but…man, seventy five dollars?
So between taking the bus all over the Provo/Orem area to get to and from the clinic, picking up the antibiotics from Macy’s, and cooking treats for institute, I didn’t get much writing done. At the same time, though, I feel like I should have gotten a lot more writing done–that really, I was just putting it off with all the other chores.
“Writer’s block” is this generic phrase used to describe a number of writing related maladies–kind of like “consumption” back in the 1800s, I guess. Right now, I’m suffering from a particularly unusual strain: I’ve got some decent plot and character ideas, I know what I want to write, but I just can’t seem to bring myself down to write it. Not consistently, anyways. This past week, I’ve only been hitting 1.4k words per day, when I need to be doing 2.5k in order to make my 15 August deadline.
The irregularity of my schedule certainly isn’t helping, but I think it goes deeper than that. I’m currently treading new territory, going places where the first draft never went, and I can’t help but feel that the stuff I’ve written prior to this point is just crap. That’s what’s so debilitating–the recognition of all the mistakes I’ve made thus far. Some of them are relatively major–level twos, at the very least.
Well, just like the best proscription for the flu is to get rest and drink lots of water (and pop lots of antibiotics when that doesn’t work), the best proscription for writer’s block is to sit down and write! So that’s what I plan to do. Tallyho!
…except, not right now. It’s 1:00 am and I’m fighting some kind of bacterial infection. Gotta sleep, but then…tallyho!
(oh, and in totally unrelated news, an agent requested to see the full manuscript for Genesis Earth! Must not get hopes up…must not get hopes up…too late. Tallyho!)
Recently, I’ve found myself nearly overwhelmed by the sudden urge to run away to the Middle East and go totally and irrevocably native. It may pass, but I still want to go back there–really bad.

…and I’m kind of hesitant to answer.
Then again, 21 days cut off from civilization…that’s 21 days in which I’m not going to be writing. 21 days in which I’m not going to have a social life (at least, not in Provo). 21 days in which I may miss other important career/writing opportunities. And two weeks–that’s not really a lot of time, not when you’ve got all your chores to do.