The Thief of Time

...so much for the accountability experiment? Ha. As it turns out, I haven't had much opportunity to write the last few days anyway. I have a full time job anyway, but on Tuesday I had an unexpected text at work from a friend who lives in Nelson who was overnighting in town, and because I'm unlikely to see her for some time once I go overseas even though she also had an overnighter last night too, we met up for a drink and a chat. So, that was Thursday gone, too, as we had dinner. Wednesday was just a bust because I was depressed and tried to eat my way out of it, which naturally makes me more depressed. Stupid thing was, mind you, that writing would have made me feel a hell of a lot better...

Still, tonight's not proving much better. After adventures all day with a truck and a WOF and mildly retarded vehicle inspectors -- though the one who finally got me the warrant was hot as hell -- and a day at work that was just a pain in the ass, I am spending the evening catching up on stuff. I need to exercise -- fifteen k biked so far, still need a twenty minute Zumba session -- and I also had to bake a cake for the Harry Potter marathon I am apparently attending most of tomorrow, I had to call my father about the aforementioned Truck Adventure, and then he wanted me to scan all these pages from my grandfather's log book, and my sister's chatting to me about jobs in London and a possible trip to Barcelona and I owe Neme-chan a massive email about gods and world-building and...well. When do I get time to write?

Still, I have done a bit of writing the last couple of days, don't get me wrong. The Greywater .doc is at 73,462, and a lot of that was scribbled last night in between getting home from work and getting ready to go out for dinner. Priorities, yeah? But it was Nan, and I can hardly deny Nan when she wants my attention. She scares the living daylights out of me, Nan does, which is always a fabulous thing for a little voice in your head to be doing. -__-;; But I'm also thinking a lot about Otho's military career and how this affects the story, at least partly because I've been flipping through my grandfather's logbook for my father. My grandfather flew Lancaster bombers in WWII, although I think he also flew Stirlings and Wellingtons; I seem to have operations manuals for them sitting on my desk in amongst the wonderful little sketches Neme sent me the other day. It is just very, very strange to read back through his flights and see the names of German towns and realise that that means he went out there and bombed those places. It's not an entirely new sensation; I got a similar creeping feeling in Munich and in Dachau, but...I don't know. As a technical pacifist, the realities of war really seem to miss me a lot of the time. I need to tap into that in order to really get inside Otho's mind.

I could go on a lot about other things tonight, but I really need to do that Zumba and write that email still, and then I've had the oddest scene rolling around in my head that I could probably drabble in a thousand words. I blame Mitzi, who is the editor responsible for my first publication. I in fact just got the payment through earlier in the week for my story in Red Velvet and Absinthe, which is out in September. But it was the first time I have ever been paid for my writing, so...wow. I'm all excited. I can't wait for the comp copies, though I think I'll be in London then. I should tell Mitzi. Hee. But yes, take a look if you like. I love the cover, it's gorgeous. And I am looking very forward to reading the other stories inside, too...