Inspiration Stations

Due to a combination of factors, I haven't been writing since I came back to New Zealand. Mostly it's that I am just so disorganised; living real life again is far too complicated for a person with a brain as small as mine. So, I've been stuck on trying to get myself sorted for both work and Christmas, leaving very little time for writing. But I want to write, so...

The other day I got a couple of my more recent commissions printed properly, and then I stuck a few up on my wall with some of the older ones to remind me of what I am up to. It's still missing a few of my favourites, but my own printer is out of ink and I pulled the plug on my credit card for the others...but I've been paid since, so I will have to do some more at some point. But yes, having pictures up on my wall is a major inspiration to me, along with the extensive playlists I make for different novels. I can write without these things, sure, but I much prefer to have them. They remind me of what I need to do. Besides, there's nothing quite as terrifying as Viola Morgan staring at you from behind your computer with her baleful button eyes.

...terrifying woman. Damn her. At least she doesn't have a scalpel, though one must note she is dangerously close to a canopic jar. It's currently filled with earbuds, but things always can and do change. But yeah, I am trying to work out what I should be working on in the run up to Christmas. A friend wants to start reading Greywater so I probably ought to proofread/sense check chapters as I pass them along, but I should actively write something too. Kaverlen Falls is calling, but I've had a couple of very curious revelations regarding several characters and their fates, and some scenes from the end of the unnamed third book are very strong in my mind. So I probably ought to write those down, so at least they exist. I can alter them to suit whatever the story ends up being later, of course.

I'm just not sure about anything, I suppose. I find it very easy to get discouraged and just throw my hands in the air and shriek STOP WRITING YOU CAN'T WRITE JUST STOP IT. But I can't. Like I said, I just keep realising things about characters, and it feels like failure if I don't give them this chance to live. But then I wonder what sort of chance it is, if I can't write anything worth reading. So...yeah. It's very much SSDD around here right now.

So, with that said, I'm going to go and try to write something without thinking about it. Because when I think about it I end up in floods of tears wondering why I am even alive. Yeah, it's that time of month all right. My issue, mind you, is that it's always my time of the month these days. Gaaaaaaah. At least I have a felt plushie. That wants to kill me. Oh, dear...