Over these hellish flames

I neglected my blogging schedule last week. On Tuesday I was too wrapped up in Dragon Age Inquisition, and on Friday I was at a wedding. Yes, I should have scheduled a post, but that… didn’t happen. Oh well.

The only thing I will say about the wedding is this: it was on a boat, it was awesome, and we saw orcas.

Shit yeah.

I’m exhausted. I’m so tired. I’m like a web page trying to load when the connection is shoddy. That little circle going round and round while it tries desperately to think. I keep stopping to put my head down on my desk. I want to write something that has more content than this but I’m having trouble, tonight, and I want to meet my schedule because I took a break last week. So here I am. Babbling.

You gotta put your head down

on a pillow, on a shoulder

You gotta put your head down

and work

work work work work work

work work work work work

You know when you’re going somewhere, and you’re really tired, but the only way to get there is to keep going? Work work work work work. One foot in front of the other through the tunnel of night and eventually you will get there. Step. Step. Step. Long and slow and steady and you’ll get there, in the end. That’s not a bad thing. It has its own form of flow. You can do anything in your head while you walk. Step step step. Keep moving and you’ll get there.

Novels aren’t really like that. You’d think they might be, but they aren’t. Somewhere between 14,000 and 25,000 words is like that. After that, you still have a long way to go, but things are different. Someone’s scrawled all over the tunnel walls and you read a mural as you walk along. There are slow times and there are fast times, and there are mad cackling times when you run on too much sugar and not enough sleep. That’s novel writing. It’s a winding road.

Right now my head is in the tunnel of night. Step step step.

Keep on moving.

Step step step.

Put your head down and work.

Work work work work work.

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