I'm too deep into my new novel now to step back, which means the writing is often hallucinatory, wonderful, painful, nervewracking, all culminating in my "should I hve become a dentist/psychologist, instead" frame of mind. I did write for three hours, but then, instead of writing more, I did the following:
1. Made chocolate vegan cupcakes using expensive chocolate. Too sweet, threw them out.
2. Looked at every stupid gossip site online, marveling at the moments when I was actually moved and/or upset, even when Jeff said, "Listen, they're celebrities. They're not like us. Don't take these things about them personally."
3. Googled the names of authors I adore. (This includes images, too. Don't ask me why.)
4. Googled the names of authors I don't adore. Also included images.
5. Googled my own name. Obsessively.
6. Organized our closet and our drawers. Realized 90 percent of my clothing is black.
7. Worried that the new novel isn't about anything, and then worried that its about too much.
8. Finished an absolutely incredible novel that I plan to review.
9. Thought about my novel some more.
Sigh. And alas. Anyone got a plan?