Life
There’s no other way to say it: I’ve been running on fumes for a lot longer than I would have thought possible. My professional program has been kicking the crap out of me for so long that it goes without saying. My peers, who once played board games and had lively conversations over lunch, now generally sit in dour silence around the tables of the cafeteria, unable to summon the strength for so much as a smile. Every week it seems like the next will be better, and every week we continue to burn ourselves out.
It hasn’t been all bad, of course, and with every week we get closer to getting done with the whole thing. The intensive portion ends in mid-December, and already I am dreading the loss of the bonds that I’ve forged with my classmates. I’m sure I’ll see some of them again—the industry we’re being trained for isn’t that large—but it won’t be like it is now. I have managed to sign and sell a few copies of Bittersouls to them, which might turn out to be a nice way for us to keep in touch in the future, assuming they continue being interested in my work.
The kids are doing well, although all three of them have entered their own unique difficult phase. The baby—now 9 months old—has entered a clingy phase, demanding a ton of attention and accepting only those few kinds that he prefers. At the same time, the 3-year-old has become downright nefarious, constantly trying to sneak candy and snacks while we’re not looking—made harder by the extra demands of attention from the baby. To round it out, the 5-year-old is finding the adjustment to Kindergarten harder than we expected, and apparently hasn’t been even trying to participate in class or do the work that he is assigned much of the time. My wife and I know that he’s ridiculously smart (as every parent thinks of their children, I’m sure), but it’s an ongoing project to convince him that he has to do his work for his teacher to be convinced that he’s as smart as he is.
Long story short, we’re still just taking things one day at a time and trying to keep our heads above water. It’s a difficult season, but seasons don’t last forever.
Writing
As I did last month, I managed to sneak in a few words here and there this month, ultimately culminating in finishing another short story. The writing software that I use, Dabble, came out with their version of a writing sprint feature, which has allowed me to set aside very small chunks of time—usually 30 minutes, which feels manageable as often as it doesn’t—to get some writing in. Where before I would sit down and say “I’ll write 500 words” and it would take me close to an hour, now I’ll sit down and say “I’ll write for exactly 30 minutes” and I’ll pound out 700 words. Needless to say, it’s been kind of unreasonably effective, and I had no idea something as simple as a timer would make such a big difference for me.
I have a few more outlines for short stories to try to work on during the next month, but more than anything I am eagerly awaiting the end of the intensive so that I can get back to working on my larger projects—like getting The Damned Earth out to readers and drafting book one of the Neon Arcana Trilogy. I am excited for what the future holds and for what my new day job will be able to offer me as far as creative freedom.
It feels like my outlines are slowly piling up while I remain mostly unable to work on them. Every couple weeks I get a new idea for a short story or a novel and jot down what I know about it, but who knows how long it might be before I get to them? I’m choosing to take away the simple knowledge that my spark is still burning strong, whether or not I’ve had the chance to feed it like I want to. A short story a month isn’t much, but it’s enough to keep me going. For now, that’s enough.
Thanks for reading, and I wish you all a lovely November.
L.A. Morton-Yates