It’s not too bad yet, but it promises to be a doozy. I have that awful, sore scratch in the back of my throat that always bodes ill. So I’m downing enough liquid echinacea to give me a buzz and hoping that takes care of it. (Hey, it’s worked before.)
And meanwhile, I’m not doing much else. Editing, mainly. Trying to decide how I feel about a book. Researching for a new book. I hate being sick; it’s very difficult to write when I’m sick. It’s like the writing part is all used up in fighting off the cold, do you know what I mean? It just *poof* disappears. And all I want to do is sit and watch Nip/Tuck on DVD or something (of course I can’t, because, you know, kids and stuff. Princess is home from school today too, she has a horrible cough.)
But I’m also doing some research, and thinking about some things, and making some decisions about my next projects and in what order they will be done and all of that, which is fun. It would be more fun if I could muster a single drop of enthusiasm for any of it, groan. I hate being sick! (And you see how dull I am when sick, too. Sorry, I know this is a terrifically boring post.)
This has been a weird year for me, writing-wise. You know how many books I’ve written this year? One. ONE. When this time last year I’d written three or four, plus some assorted novellas and stuff. I don’t know why this has been such a terribly unproductive year, but it seems I’m not the only one having issues either.
And I’m reading my Booker Prize book, which isn’t great. Well, it’s okay, but I’m not loving it. I’m trying to find the greatness in it but no matter how hard I look I can’t seem to. Maybe it’s all in the end? I’ve only got like 50 pages to go.
How are you feeling? Anyone else finding this to be a weird, off year for new projects?