I'm still alive. This weekend was a long slog, and I don't have much to show for it either. Which isn't good. So much to do with so little time.
Then I'm at work (where we are specifically ordered not to have overtime - yeah, that's gonna work, not), and I'm starting to get ideas for the novel I don't want to think about at this time (Return of Lars). So, another note paper that solves a big problem I had with the story. The story is about killing supernatural entities (God Slaying, which is difficult, and Lars doesn't make it stick, but does accomplish banishing the being and removing its power from the world). How he's able to accomplish this involves a very magical sword (and my magic devices are very weird, trust me. In the other novel I have a magical sword which is anti-magic, yeah, work that one out - I did). And actually the sword provides the twist (literal and literary). The sword was created by this entity, so I get to explore "fate" vs "free-will" issues. But, what happens to the sword once the entity is removed from the sphere of influence? Well, that's what came to me (no, I'm not telling).
It serves me right. I've been sneaking in Neil Gaiman's Fragile Things. Neil is one of those authors that sets my creativity going. My muse (the internal one) kicks out stories as I read some authors and books. I don't understand the mechanism fully (because the stories and ideas don't have anything to do with what I'm actually reading). Like, I'm reading "October in the Chair" in Neil's book, which has nothing to do with swords (that have been introduced) or sociopathic elves or god slaying. But here is this thought (and a page about another short story at home, a first contact/submarine tale). Some authors just do that.
It also has nothing to do with how much I like an author. I really like (even personally) Tobias Buckell and John Scalzi, but when I read them this tap of ideas turns off.
So I'm sleep deprived, I got only one-quarter of the pages read for critique that I should have. So I'm behind. Life is interfering. One day I'll learn to say no (and, no, I'm not talking about you, Eileen, I mean all the other six-thousand things).
3 comments:
Loved Fragile Things. Lyrical stuff, there.
Yay for creativity. Boo for sleep deprivation. Do they let people siesta at your workplace?
camille, it's another compilation that I've read the pieces parts elsewhere, but it's nice to have it all together. Yeah, Neil's writing is excellent. He's writen one of the two books that having read once, I immediately turned back to page one and started all over (American Gods).
todd, nope, no siesta. Heck, we don't even get a lunch break (negotiated out by the union, even thought it's State Law, but since we're governed by our contract we don't get one). I just shovel food in my mouth as I'm working.
Today I think a lot of people could have used on.
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