I refuse to post a positive update this week. It's Saturday night and I'm in a crabby mood.
I slipped off the top step of the porch on Wednesday, and in an attempt to not faceplant in the driveway gravel, I pirouetted with the style and grace of a prima ballerina elephant, and landed on my left ass cheek creating sufficient force to turn my butt into an abstract art piece from some hack's blue period. I also wrenched my left arm, which makes sleeping and driving a whole lot of fun. Lucky for me, it hasn't hampered my ability to write. No, that's got it's own hampers, thank you very much.
The AC got fixed. But the lawn mower lost a wheel. On Wednesday. While I was falling off the porch. Hubs got it jerry-rigged back together because who wants to pay $50 a wheel for a freakin' mower? Not my penny-pinching self, that's for sure.
So here I am, sitting off to one side because my ass hurts, and trying to hammer some words out when I can... And I've been like really proud of all the work I've been putting in on Bloodflow, and I'm really liking where it's going... when I see an article about microchip implants for humans... Which is the premise behind Bloodflow and having it out there for real kind of shits out the basis for my damn book that I've spent the past 2 months rewriting. Which means now I have to either shitcan the book or rewrite it AGAIN.
I can't do this again.
Right at this moment, I'm not sure I can keep doing any of this.
And yet, I forge on. I dipped under 100K on that book I'm tweezing with 33 pages left to go, so it'll definitely be done by my self-prescribed date of 9/1. Now I need to muster the will to send it off into the world again. :headdesk:
I'm going back to playing in the family tree. At least all those people are dead and can't piss me off. (Really I'm mostly pissed at myself these days, but the dead relatives distract me.)
ETA: And just so ya know and don't get all concerned, I still wrote last night. Cuz I kinda hafta finish this thing. It's a moral imperative.