10-5 and 10-6

10-5

Well, I guess too much editing can be too much.  I opened the episode-in-progress, and edited the last twelve minutes of it . . . except I guess I'd already done that last night and had no memory of it (I still cut out a couple of mouth sounds here and there, but all in all, I wasted fifteen early morning minutes I could've been doing anything else, even sleeping).  Now I'm on to the next chapter.

Unfortunately, I'm burning myself out now.  I took a break, ate a couple times, swatted a dozen flies and vacuumed up a dozen more, read two chapters in a new book (I finished "Straight Man" yesterday), and rode on the exercise bike.

I haven't come up with a Halloween episode for this year.  I keep thinking I need to get on it, pick a story, record it, and see if I can't get it done before the end of the month.  But at the same time, that makes me feel irresponsible, because I've GOT to get this audiobook done before the deadline (hell, there might be a BONUS if I do, and I need that bonus).

I cannot overstate how many flies I have killed today.  I mean it, if I had a hundred dollars for every fly in the past twenty-four hours, I'd probably be dead.  And even though I came up here not to be distracted, their buzzing draws my attention every ten minutes or so, and I get up to swat them, spray them, or vacuum them up.

I started editing Chapter 28 this morning, and by the afternoon, I hadn't finished it yet.  It was one I had to keep taking a break from, even going outside to burn logs for my brother three times, though I don't understand why he wants it done.*  Finally, the sun was getting real low, and I knew I had to go, but Chapter 28 became my White Whale . . . and I absolutely would not leave until it was finished.

Exercise: Yes, but just a single mile (5)

10-6

So, yesterday, I did do some writing, but I did a lot of stuff at the cabin, and was incapable of sitting still for very long.  Last week or so, I came up with this idea of bringing back the protagonist of "Rest Stop," a short story I wrote about a dude and his dog, and yesterday, I started a story where he encounters Will Choner, the boy who can find things that are missing, to find his missing dog.  The story may or may not go anywhere, but I really just wanted to explore what it would be like to have tremendous good luck, everywhere you go, but still be haunted by the awful way that you obtained the good luck.  Jeez, I feel like I've already blogged about this, though I can't have.**

Along those lines, I wrote at the library, but not for long.  I wrote yesterday too, but since I'm not counting words, it doesn't really matter.

Exercise: Yes (6) 

*He cut down a couple of dead trees, then we stacked the firewood, but he wants it all gone, all burned up, even though no one is enjoying the campfire. If you have an explanation, I'd love to hear it.

**COULD I have?  Did I write about "What does it profit a man to gain the entire world and loses his soul?" line from "Sanford & Son?"