Monday, February 02, 2004
My feet are very cold.
Sorry, but that's the first thing that came into my mind.
Today, I can tell, will be the sort of day spent wrestling with the need to begin a short story, full in the knowledge that it isn't going to happen, not yet. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe day after tomorrow. But it needs to start today. Now. I have a stack of commitments. The days will race by.
I'll probably flee the apartment soon. Nothing weakens my reclusivity like the need to write. There are a million plausibe distractions out there.
I'm finished with the CEM of Murder of Angels, but I really need to read through the whole ms., start to finish, as a novel, not as something in need of proofreading. I need to be sure I've got it right. As right as it will get. But it's almost 600 pp. and I have only about 8 days. I'll do what I can do.
I feel less sick than I did yesterday.
And I have a lot of monsters to draw...
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