Mon, 26 Jan 2004
In an ungood way
I'm hacked off. So hacked off I haven't written anything
today. Never mind yesterday -- waking up after noon with the
side-effects of being at a thrash/metal club until 4 in the
morning, then going out to a punk gig at 8pm, that's my excuse
-- but today is a working-ish day and I haven't done anything.
It's the winter blues, I tell you, I've got it bad. So as soon
as I finish this blog entry I am going to get down to
work ...
In an attempt to escape, I idly checked the price of flights.
Turns out a return from Edinburgh to Boston in
about two weeks' time comes to £220 per adult, of which
£75 is tax -- so it looks like I'm off to Boskone next month.
With a side-trip to New York that should help recharge my
batteries a bit and get me focussed again (especially as my
editors from Ace and Tor will both be at the con).
Hope the bird
flu isn't as bad as they're afraid -- being banged up for
eight hours in an elderly DC-10 is not a good recipe for
avoiding infection. Luckily it seems to mostly be infecting
people who work with poultry so far, and not to have made the
jump into the general population: if it happens, this one
could well deliver what SARS promised, i.e. a metric shitload
of misery.
Anyway, back to work. If I hit my quota today, I will end
exactly two-thirds of the way through the first draft.
That would be good. But I'm irritable and distracted in the
way that I sometimes get halfway through a project, which is a
bad recipe for continuing. Discipline, discipline ...
Oh yeah, I nearly forgot: last Friday I signed the contract on
ACCELERANDO and GLASSHOUSE, which will be my seventh and
eighth novels when they appear in print. Eek!
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posted at: 19:15 | path: /writing | permanent link to this entry
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