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Twelve pages yesterday. I was afraid that when I got to the desk this morning that it would read like crap and I’d have to throw it out, but it read just fine. A lot of writers I know say that their emotional state effects the writing. It doesn’t seem to matter for me. My friend Sharon, Sharon Shinn, said the same thing. We discovered that we can write a scene that is diametrically opposed to our actual mood and it doesn’t seem to impact the writing. Interesting.
Other friends, say, not so for them. Emotional turmoil will slow down the writing, or change it. But, apparently, my internal world is pretty solid. It chugs along no matter what’s happening in my own life. It’s probably why all the people that try to make analogies between my life and Anita’s always amuse, or puzzle, me. For another writer, it might be analogous, but it just isn’t for me.
I didn’t even kill people on paper yesterday. I did twelve pages of some of the calmest interaction Anita’s had in a long time with a big, bad, vampire. Very calm, very well thought out. Very . . . not my mood yesterday.
Pippin slept with Sasquatch on Jimmy’s bed yesterday late in the day. It made me want to move him. But the dogs will find their new level within our pack. It’s the way of things. I think they’re moving on faster than I am. Today Pip came over by himself to the office, but then wanted to go back. He doesn’t like to be the only dog. He and Jimmy didn’t interact much, but apparently, just having another dog over here makes a difference to him. I know what he means. Jimmy was my most faithful office buddy since we moved to the new addition. He seemed to delight in the new space, the new beds, all the sunlight coming through the banks of windows. Enough, I’ll make myself sad again.
Today, I did five pages. I’m happy with it. I’d like more pages, of course, always, but it’s past my four page minimum. Good enough. Again, it was calmer than I thought it would be. It looks like the violence won’t hit until tomorrow, or later today if I go back for a second session.
Oh, and the exterminator was back again today to do a recheck since the fogging for spiders. They found more brown recluse spiders in the traps, but it’s down by more than half. That’s good. He was going to do spot spraying today, and I had to tell him, nope. I’m still allergic. It was a different technician than last time. He’d like to spray once a month for awhile. Which would mean five days out of my own house every month. I don’t think so. But we are going to have to do a research trip for this book. So we’ll probably try and coordinate it so that they can spray again. But instead of three days out of town for research, it will have to be five. Man, this is a pain in the ass, but then so are the spiders. And yes, I know I sound calm. But being hysterical doesn’t help. Or maybe Jimmy’s passing has just used up all the hysteria I’ve got for awhile? I do find that after something tragic I am unnatural calm in the face of all sorts of things that would normally have me upset. There just doesn’t seem enough emotion left to spread around. It makes me strangely, clear-headed, and very unemotional on decisions. Hmm, sounds a little like being in shock, except I am truly clear-headed. Usually in real shock you only think you’re making sense, in reality, you are soooo not making sense. I’ve got other people working here who are stamping my card on the whole making sense part. So, again, interesting.
Like an actor, I will file all these emotional reactions, or lack, away. You’ll see them in the writing, but not when I’m feeling them. When Anita, or Merry, are feeling them.