Possibly it’s because I’m not sitting here and staring at a manuscript ALL DAY LONG until I goddamn well WRITE something just so I don’t have to stare any more. Generally, one of the stories I did last fall would take me an entire day to produce, as I worked a bit, read LJ for a while, walked around, came back, worked a little more…and by day’s end I’d have a manuscript to turn in.
Well, now I have this full-time job for the next few months so I can’t sit around the house all day until pure boredom drives me to do some work. I have a couple of hours available, two or three evenings a week . . . and I suppose I have a deadline, although the editor hasn’t told me when it is. And I don’t want to have to find out when it is. I’d like just to turn my stuff in and be done with it, but to do that . . . I have to sit down and actually edit and re-write, no matter how lousy the material I’ve been given to work with (and it is crap, of a most lamentable and excrementitious sort).
Batman pretends to be the dehydrated engine and the sleeping carnation. Fnord.
