Listening to: Guster, "Perfect"
Been in such a fog all week. And it really hasn't been a bad week, at least socially--tried out the Mexican place next door (Margaritas! Yum!), went on a ferry and to a baseball game, went out with The Husband and my best friend and her boyfriend. Worked on my tan. Started--and finished--Stardust.
Sent out a few more query letters. I haven't gotten any responses in two weeks, but I've sent four more out since that last response. Eight queries still out in the ether and a total of fourteen sent so far, in case anyone's curious.
As far as the writing goes, though, I'm just feeling so...blah. I have to really force it. Something in my brain just isn't clicking. I wish I could explain how frustrating it is...I'm getting pretty desperate here. I'm *thisclose* to returning to the old notebook-and-pen way of doing things.
Maybe I need to work on something else for a little bit, some short stories or something. I swore to myself that I would write some shorts this year. I've written...one. And it still hasn't made the jump from notebook to computer.
Erg. This blog post is really boring, and kind of whiney. I'm going to stop now.
If you don't feel that you are possibly on the edge of humiliating yourself, of losing control of the whole thing, then possibly what you are doing isn't very vital. If you don't feel like you are writing somewhat over your head, why do it? If you don't have some doubt of your authority to tell this story, then you are not trying to tell enough. --John Irving