So logy, cranky, and melancholy is me—or else I'm entertaining three dwarves in my brain.
Apologies to folks who I've neglected and/or who are waiting on me for something. One of the coping mechanisms I've established when I'm drained and scraping bottom on the energy/motivation bucket is to withdraw and triage to-do items into "essential, life and death, red alert now!"—like paying bills and going to my day job—and "meh, what's another hamster on my toe?" categories. Most things end up as the latter. Sigh.
• 54-day "lively and interesting but..." rejection from Strange Horizons with invite to submit again (!@%#%^ I'm never going to break into them, am I?)
New Words, uh, lessee, since last entry:
• Wednesday: 1,300
• Thursday: 600
• Friday+Weekend: 500
• Yesterday: 1,700
Racing to hit zero draft by the end of the year.
At least getting words on the page is great therapy. A productive day of writing makes the world brighter and shinier. Of course, the correlary is that a day of no writing just piles on the suckitude.