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I got to take a long, hot, bath. Not for need, but for just wanting to do it. It’s the beginning of my decompression from writing BLOOD NOIR. From touring for A LICK OF FROST. From, everything. The last time I tried the jacuzzi tub I couldn’t use the jets because they hurt my spider bite. That was a bummer. But, today, I got to use the tub in all it’s glories, and I feel much better. Better, not just relaxed, but better that the damned brown recluse bite is finally letting go.
My schedule really isn’t ever going to be user friendly, so I’ve got to be more adaptable, and find ways to relax in the midst of it all. I think it’s the only sane way to go. Ah, to have Grisham’s schedule where he takes six months off between books and travels. But he, and, I are very different writers, and I suspect very different people. What works beautiful for one writer wouldn’t work at all for another. Writing is like a relationship, what makes one couple’s marriage fly will sink another. What allows one writer to have an amazing and successful out put would make another type of writer flounder. So, instead of bemoaning that I’m not ever going to be one of those writers that takes months off between books, or gasp years, I’m just going to have to snuggle down and enjoy who and how I work.
I’ll put this bit up tomorrow for the blog since you got a really long one already today. I’ll put the bit up about the Seattle signing day after. I think if we keep doing the tour in pieces like that I won’t skip anything this time. G’night, all. I’ve got to go finish packing for the trip tomorrow.
I was all bright and shiny last night when I wrote this, but, of course, my moody bastard kicks in eventually. But I am going to do my very best to enjoy this trip. I haven’t had this kind of time to wonder around and be inspired for background on a book since OBSIDIAN BUTTERFLY. God, I have been working about as hard as I can for about as long as I can think. It’s time to step back a little, and let my muse and I play a little more.