So, first an update on the – physical – state of the writer. It turned out that the sinus infection doubled back, and had hit the ears when I thought I’d got rid of it. Ie. I got better for a little while, then it got way worse, fast. Meaning I had the wrong anti-biotic for this particular bug. Yesterday I felt like I was somewhat drunk (as to balance) and completely foggy in thinking. Now if I’d been drinking nearly enough for the symptoms in the last day I’d have thought it was that. But because I hadn’t, and because I’d been this way before, I said “uh oh, doctor.”
I got the megadose antibiotic that cleared the last time things got this far, and I’m pleased to report my thinking is clearer. I just don’t have “strength” to pull from. I keep thinking I can do things, like I volunteered to make Robert an omelet, and afterwards I felt like I’d done a 12 hour shift as line cook.
Very annoying, since now both Through Fire and Darkship Revenge (they’re related, though I don’t think they share chapters. Through Fire ends, then DSR2 begins.) are literally trying to dictate themselves. This means I’ll try to write a bit before the workshop (supposing after the trip I’m not laid flat) tomorrow and Thursday (for those not initiated, I’m teaching a workshop in Bedford library (TX) Friday through Sunday (then flying back Monday. Yes, I’m still terrified of flying, so ya’ll keep my plane in the air, okay?) If you are not yet enrolled and decide you need it, ping Amanda S. Green on Facebook or email me. Next year we’re going to try to do it at a different time, perhaps just after Liberty con.) and if I’m sort of spacey over the workshop you’ll know why.
It’s very frustrating to have the whole d*mn things (and btw The Brave & The Free thought it was a good time to start unspooling, too) in my head, knowing they just need to be typed, and have NO strength.
I guess I didn’t have strength before the meds either, but I also couldn’t think clearly enough to want to do anything, so that was okay.
The funny (but not ah ah) part of fever dreams is… they’re fever dreams. Not to get into whoo whoo stuff, but when my health is weird, my dreams become unmoored in time. It was in this situation I dreamed of Draw One In The Dark.
For those who don’t know the DOITD story: This was at a time when I couldn’t sell my books even if I printed them in gold. I’d just crashed and burned with Shakespeare. My agent had dumped me, and no one would touch my stuff – and my agent wouldn’t let me send it under another name without informing the publisher. This is when I got sick and while sick I dreamed someone brought it up to sign, and it was a bestselling series, though I’d broken into bestseller with another series.
What I dreamed specifically is that I was at the Mission Palms (my favorite con hotel) in Tempe AZ (though that might just be it had been the last I’d been at) and we were having an outside signing at night (when it’s warm, not sweltering) and someone came up with a box of my books to sign and started unpacking them. They had the Shakespeare, and then they had this other series, including the hard cover of DOITD with the horrible cover and I said, “Oh, man, you are a collector. You even have the terrible cover.” And she said “Well, I discovered you with – I don’t remember what she said. MIGHT have been Darkships for all I know. It sort of slid over me – but then I found everything you ever wrote and the shifters are my favorite.” And I thought “shifters?” and since I hadn’t written any shifters, the me dreaming was smart enough to read the description.
Then the book sold, and it had a terrible cover, and I thought my career was over and then… well, I don’t know if it was a prophetic dream, but it MIGHT happen. And if it does and you’re the person who brought me the books to sign, smile, you’re on candid (dream) camera.
Well, last night I dreamed I was receiving an award for my “bestselling” YA SF series. What made this dream notable is that a bunch of Baen fans had thought it necessary to show up at an award that was CLEARLY normally intended for teachers and librarians and such. They stuck in a group and stuck out, and made colorful commentary, and I was highly amused.
Well, I don’t know if the books were Baen, but since the only YA sf/fan series I have planned (yes, it’s betwixt and between) is Tiltamouse, and I didn’t think that would win any awards, I thought I’d look at the book.
I did as soon as I got off the podium from getting the award.
Let’s just say that the idea is so stunningly simple and yet so odd that… well… it’s something I always wanted to write it, only I didn’t know I did.
And I tested it. I told it to son over breakfast. The reaction was “if you don’t write that in the first two weeks you have free I’ll never talk to you again. I WANT to READ it.”
I won’t go into how weird this is for older son, much less younger son, so I’ll just say I’ve got more stuff added to my slate. (The question is will he be willing to do cleaning and cooking so I have two weeks free? Greater love has no son…)
So, apparently there’s YA SF (With aliens, yet!) in my future, as long as the other stuff dictates itself. This might postpone Bowl of Red till January.
Do I think it will win awards or be bestselling? I don’t know. Don’t care. I think it will be – son’s word – “kickass” and therefore I want to write it. And if Baen doesn’t want it (I don’t know how they feel about YA right now. This is maybe late middle school early highschool – kids all between 14 and 17) then I bring it out. It’s that powerful.
BUT today none of that is going to happen.
Today I’m going to do overdue page proofs, and edit a story and if there’s strength (maybe after a nap) do an overdue short story.
I am however going to take it easy, because I don’t want to get sick again. This year has been ridiculous. I’d resent it less if it were really illnesses – you know, the black plague or even brucitis of the cleaning woman knee. Instead, it’s these half baked things: sinus, ears, colds, stomach flu. I mean, how impressive does that sound?
Part of it is stress – no, we still don’t know how we make it for the next six months. I’m fairly sure we can make it after that, but those six months are a blank. There are things we can do, but we’re going to be sailing mighty close anyway. (Never mind. Right now the most important thing is to write very fast and get both Baen and indie stuff up.) And even after the six months I don’t see the surplus to finance a move. However – we’ll have to find it because most of our money is locked in this house. Trying to figure out ways and not seeing them, stresses me.
But that’s not the worst. There’s the HVAC situation (today I need to call and get an appointment – hopefully – set to do the work next week, after I come back) and other stuff that is too tedious or not mine to report, that is making me tired and unable to sleep well enough, which in turn affects everything, including my ability to exercise. (I’m still walking 3 miles a day. Okay, not this week, because ears, but normally. BUT when I was doing well, I was also doing ½ hour either running or elliptical every morning before breakfast, and I’ve just NOT had the strength for that. However, it needs to restart, because my ankles are starting to get weakened from not enough exercise, and I’m gaining weight again.)
So, if I can muster it, I’m also going to put the first two of the musketeer’s mysteries up on ebook today, then fiddle with the paper re-edition after I get back.
BUT right now, I’m going to shower and maybe take a nap before I do any of that. Which makes me feel like a total wimp, but it’s about where I am right now.
So that’s the state of the writer, the state of her dreams, and the state of her lack of time.