Books books books books!

November came and went, and NaNoWriMo happened. By the end of the month I realized that I was tired, and I was only going to become more tired, and so maybe I wanted to give myself a break for December. Why not? I started November with having written 80k words for the year, and the additional 45k brought me over 100k. That’s not too shabby considering that I work a non-writing day job 40 hours a week. I’m still a bit bowled over that I’ve written that much in a year’s time — I didn’t mean to. I certainly don’t yet have any finished work on the two — er, three — books I’ve made progress on this year. I’ve mentioned already that participating in NaNoWriMo has given me the gift of understand that I can reasonably write not one but multiple books in one year’s time, that 1700 words a day, most days, is something that I can do without sacrificing anything other than sleep.

But then it was December, and December brought exhaustion. There’s a number of factors. The first, and most obvious, is that I work retail. Dealing with people can be exhausting; dealing with consuming monsters who have no empathy at all is worse. It’s not all that bad, really, all the time, but I do stagger home most days without much power left in my head for words. The second factor is, this December marks the one year anniversary of my grandmother’s death and burial, and I decided going into December that I was going to have all the patience and compassion I could muster for myself. I was not going to hold myself accountable for accomplishing anything other than doing what I needed to do to be okay. Mostly, that’s involved sleeping, knitting, and not a small amount of wine.

So, I’ve been reading. And I’m apparently in a “begin all the books!” phase of reading. Right now I’m currently reading Kresley Coles’ An Immortal After Dark series — I’m only one book in, but thoroughly enjoying it thus far. I’ve started Lynsay Sands’ vampire series, and liked it enough to give it a few books before I decide to put it down (the writing isn’t bad at all, it’s just more light hearted than I like my stories. Give me angst!!) I discovered, as you know, Erzabet Bishop’s Erotic Pagan series, and will be continuing that once the bills for January are caught up. I’ve got the Last Argument of Kings waiting for me to start it. I’ve got a book I need to read over the winter to write a review up for by March, and so far it’s fascinating. I’m itching to get my hand on copies of some books I know we have out in our shed, and I long to go spend hours at the bookstore and/or libraries, only to come home with a stack.

I must be in a nesting mood. A pile of new yarn wouldn’t go amiss, either.

Today I returned to Born of Flame. I didn’t write a ton, just 1700 humble little words. But I adore that I’m only 16 days into my “I’m only going to rest and nourish myself, damn it!” vow, and I’m ready to write again. Itching, even. I cannot wait to get this series written. Maybe we’ll find a publisher for it. Maybe we’ll indie release it. (Honestly, the biggest reason I have to not want to indie release it is the formatting!) I don’t know. We’ll see.

Meanwhile, it’s time to get back on schedule.

I love being a writer.



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