Words are All I have

I know you’re thinking that today is the second day I’ve taken off to eat bonbons and read trashy books…

Actually the bonbon eating – as it were – hasn’t started yet. I finally finished A Fatal Stain yesterday a little past noon, and now I’m engaged in the great typo hunt. Particularly when dealing with this sort of book, which had at least two versions of the ending, assorted tweaks in the middle and parts and references that were replaced, typo hunt is a nightmare, because it also catches fragments of the past versions.

Unfortunately I know me, and if I try to do too exact a typo hunt, I’ll end up adding more typos than I remove. (Like, I lose the original meaning of a sentence and try to fix it, thereby muddying it beyond repair.)

Anyway, that should be done sometime this morning, and I have a short story that is due next week, as well as two space operas to finish. (Maybe three, if I can decide if one of them – almost done – is dead or not. There are times when a novel dies in mid writing. I never know why or how to bring it back.)

Because I have other things due, and because frankly I hardly know what to do with myself when not working, there’s a great temptation to sit here and write. Or to indulge in two or three days of reading – the trashy novel thing, though there’s a lot of non-fic I need to catch up on, as well.

What I feel though is that right now I can’t take words. Written words and writing words. It’s like my brain is tired of all the pushing and wants to recover.

So, once this thing is de-typoed and underway to its proper destination, I’m going to go do a bazzillion (technical term) loads of laundry, do a quick dust and vacuum (both the boys have tests this coming week, so I’m not bothering them with it) and then, if I’m very lucky, vegging in front of Pride and Prejudice mini-series.