Slipping aside and waking up
Novel fatigue. Only word for it. I'm at probably 50k words, and I can't write anymore. I can't even think about it. I've just been so close to it for so long that I can't approach it with any kind of discernment. Do these characters make sense? Is the plot cohesive? Am I using the same words and descriptions over and over again? Who knows. The point is, I don't know. So I'm stopping for now. I took last week off from writing completely. That's a big break for me. This week I'm starting on a short story, and then maybe I'll read the book to date and see where I am. Or maybe I'll write another short. Or maybe not. We'll see.
On another front, I got my copy of Interzone 206 a couple days ago. I'm very happy with it. First of all, it's the first time my name has appeared on the cover. Not at the top, or even in a place of prominence, but it's my name, and it's the cover. Because I rock.
It's a very satisfying feeling, and the story itself is one I'm proud of having written. Though, as with all of my stuff, I can see how I'd write it differently if I had it to do again. So this short that I'm working on now will probably be influenced by that, revisiting the old spy-ence fiction noir that I so desperately love. Happy happy.