The Predicament

I'm not a patient person. I'm not saying that I get frustrated. I just obsess and it gnaws at my brain. So, Scorched is now in with Caren. Her site says to expect a 4-8 week response time. (Does that sound like less or more time when you say one to two months?)

I've decided not to do ABNA with Scorched. I suppose I could still polish up Re: Straint and use that for ABNA. I also need to work on Honor, though.

Huh... that's an interesting thought. Re: Straint for ABNA.

Bah. The thought of staring at another manuscript for fifteen hours makes my eyes bleed. I should really tackle my house today. It's scary.

I'm also rethinking the possibility of Honor at DAW. At the very least, I really need to rethink my approach at that query letter and take a second look at the first bit for the millionth time.

As if this wasn't enough balls in the air... I also had insomnia really wicked last night. It took me several tries at one hour lengths to get to sleep at around four a.m. My dystopian wants to be finished. It really, really, really wants to be finished. The words are streaming into my head faster than I can write them down which means I'm staring at the ceiling with dialogue etching its way onto my brain. So, not writing them down might mean sacrificing sleep or having to take full-on sleeping pills to override them.

You know... I went into full-on writer mode a little over a year ago in October of 2008. It feels like it's been one obsessive moment to the next.

There are some moments that I couldn't and wouldn't live without of this whole thing. I love telling stories. I love when my characters whisper into my heads and tell me what they're really thinking and saying. Sometimes they surprise the heck out of me. Last night, Tyler from Versus the Bounty came up with a seriously ingenious way of getting across a monitored area without their body temperatures setting off sensors. It was seriously brilliant. One day last week, I had another character call out an insult at Tyler using a slang word that I'd never heard that I can remember, but turned out to be an actual insult meaning "freak." I love that part of writing. I love the whisper of voices and thoughts and plots.

I hate the way it gnaws on my life, though. I feel like sitting down to type is feeding an unhealthy addiction at times. I've considered increasing the dosage of my OCD meds to see if it will dampen the obsession enough that I don't lose sleep over it. On the other hand, what if I get stuck in a plot, unable to finish writing? What if I can never recapture whatever it is that helps me write? What if that keeps me from sleeping even more than it does now? That terrifies me. I'm afraid to bump the status quo.

I also don't like opening myself to critique and ridicule. My stories feel so personal. I've been bullied in my life and this feels a little like that at times. It's exposing a weakness. This is the way I think... I believe... I dream.... Okay, now tell me what's wrong with it.

Wow. This post is very, very random.

I think until I get a response from Caren I'll consider that an exclusive for right now. So, I'll take Scorched off the querying table.

That leaves Re: Straint, Honor, and my current WIP Versus the Bounty to think on.

Should I quickly run over Re: Straint and get it ready for ABNA?

I should get some laundry started and mull these things over.