Chapter Eighteen is done. Eighteen
chapters. Holy shit, you guys. o.O That's more than a little surreal after weeks of writer's block.
I got another rejection today from a prospective job. Not that I've sent out a lot of resumes or anything -- there's not much to be had around here anyway -- but still. I mention it because I think the one thing that's really worrying me about this story is how much I'm focusing on working on it to the detriment of other stuff. Looking for a job hasn't been successful, so I've been slacking. Going out when I'm broke means I can't splurge as much as I like (and when I say "splurge" I'm not talking about getting to throw twenties around or anything, I'm talking in terms of singles here), so I haven't left town much the past month or so. Going out on the town with Jess means another night of her possibly going home with a guy and me heading back home alone, which never bothers me (hey, at least one of us has a sex life) except ... eh, I can't deal with being the lonely sidekick right now.
I mention all that because this is the one thing that's not crashing and burning for me right now, so. *sigh*
I keep thinking about the last time I got laid off in 2001. I was off for six months, and then out of desperation I had to take a job as a telemarketer. So of COURSE I'm focusing on the fucking book that I'm enjoying the hell out of writing, because at least that doesn't pay me a shitty paycheck (it doesn't pay at all -- beside the point, anyway
) and require me to call people who snipe at me to get a REAL job when it's the only real job anyone in the area can get (not true anymore, thank God, but there's nothing else either).
I'm sorry if I seem a little too focused on it to the detriment of fic or fandom or whatever, but ... well. That's probably one reason why I went off on the whole "pissing in my lemonade" BS, because seriously, I have maybe fifty bucks for the next two weeks. If I'm not sitting alone in my dark apartment trying to finish another chapter, I've dragged myself down to the cafe just so I'm not some creepy shut-in. I talk to my brother, my parents, Jess, and my pets, and that's it. I can't fit into most of my clothes right now. And the book's the one thing consistently making me happy, even when it's fucking pissing me off. I'm not at, like, needing-to-see-a-doctor levels of depression or anything, but for fuck's sake, if watching over-produced television musical performances or hot communications officers or cheesy variety-show entertainment is giving me a temporary case of the flappyhands, leave me be
. I'm not getting a whole lot of that right now, which is probably why I spent a good fifteen minutes before watching the "How Crayons Are Made" video from Sesame Street
on repeat. At least no one showed up during those fifteen minutes to kick my cane out from underneath me or shit in my Cheerios or whatever.
But, yeah. Heroine Addiction
I'm going to try and spend the rest of the night plotting out the rest of the book. We'll see how that goes. I've got the final chapter finished, so as per usual, it's just a matter of getting from point A to point Z. Or, I suppose it's more aptly point G or H to point Z. Whatever. I think I could be moving a little quicker with an outline, so plotting it is.
It's rainy and cold and gross out. I don't think I have to mention how much that's not helping my mood at ALL.