aamcnamara

I'm still in the post-novel slump. I've been vacillating aimlessly between doing nothing productive and not caring, and doing nothing productive and feeling guilty about it.

Also, sometimes when I think about the summer, just writing/finishing the first draft of a novel (and volunteering at the library a few days a week) doesn't seem like that much of a big deal, and I should've been doing more with my time--I'm not exactly sure what, saving the world maybe, but anyway sometimes I feel all unaccomplished and unproductive even about that.

Brains. Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.

But today I wrote one of my solstice-stories, which was something, anyway. It turned into a pretty terrible, pretty-terribly-illustrated Edward Gorey & William Shakespeare pastiche--at the very least entertaining for me to write and draw. So I only have 4-6 of those left to write (and 2 or 3 to finish or rewrite) between now and, oh, the middle of December.

I know I'll feel better as soon as I find something to distract me, it's just a question of finding such. Maybe I'll go write down awesome things to see if anything seems like a good next project.

...yeah. That's about all I've got.