alexandraerin: (Default)
One of the habits on my "work habits" instruction is going to involve blogging more. Without fail the days in which I blog (and email Jack) regularly are my most productive ones. I could (and did) sit here and wonder about the chicken-and-egg question there, but I think it's more like a self-perpetuating cycle. Writing begets writing begets writing, after all. Keeping the words flowing helps keep the words flow. The reverse is also true. Clamming up about one thing, or in one area, makes me clam up in others. As I've said recently, "inhibitions are the enemy of art".

The weird thing is that although it gave that advice to myself at the start of the draft post for the current chapter of Tales of MU, I didn't follow it very well. Because right away the chapter started developing in a different direction than I'd expected. Something I'd thought would be a sideline, a sort of brief aside before the main action, started turning into the main action... and I sat there and fought with the unfolding chapter to try to stop that from happening, to try to force it to be what I'd expected.

Why? Because I wanted it to match up to the previous chapters' teasers. Why was this such a big deal to me? Because in one of my rare forays into the comment section on Tales of MU, I noticed somebody complaining the last time I deviated from the teaser. This comment shouldn't have bothered me that much, because it came from a chronic complainer who never delivers on his own teasers (i.e., "If things don't doesn't change, I'm going to stop reading."), but it stuck with me in the way that such things often do.

I suppose somewhere in my head is the idea that criticism is either valid or it isn't. I used to respond to almost every piece of criticism that I got that I disagreed with, with the idea that letting it stand unanswered was basically agreeing with it. I've outwardly given up on the idea that every blowhard who spews bile on the internet is a "critic" whose comments demand a rebuttal, but I haven't learned the trick of not letting it affect me.

I am hopeful that writing about this... getting these thoughts laid out and put out in the open... will help me there. After all, it was only after I started writing this post and started thinking about why I've fought with this chapter so much that I realized how reluctant I was to put up the chapter without getting to what the teasers had "promised" and connected that back to the comment that's been burning a hole in the back of my head.

I also need to realize that I have someone who's very interested in knowing what I'm feeling and thinking who I could have (and should have) talked to about how much the comment bothered me. Chances are good that telling Jack would have lessened the burden considerably. I'm still not quite used to having anybody to confide in, though.
alexandraerin: (Default)
In a move critics are hailing as "the single most intelligent act of the 21st century to date", I switched my phone off last night so it wouldn't wake me up in the morning. I did this not after I put it back on the charger by my bed, but right as I was saying goodnight to Jack on my computer.

You can probably guess where this story is going.

I don't actually use my phone as a phone... I think I have had all of one conversation using it in the conventional telephonic fashion. It's my PDA, my notepad, and my auxiliary brain. The good news is that all the alerts I have set in it are automatically backed up to Google Calendar, so I'm not going to be completely lost until it turns up.

I know it's in the apartment. I know I must have set it somewhere in between signing off the computer at midnight and when I headed into my bedroom not long after, when I realized it wasn't in my hand. I've checked all the obvious places... there are only two places I let myself set the phone down if I'm paying attention, so it will always be in the same places. I checked both of those places and everywhere I remember going before bed. No luck.

In other "magic of being me" news, I missed the touring production of White Christmas on Sunday because the reminder never made it from my old dead Treo to my Pre. Usually I deal with events like that by reminding obsessively fearing that I'm going to forget them and checking the dates on the tickets several times a day. This hasn't stopped me from doing things like commiting to family gatherings at the same time as a concert or other event, though I usually catch those conflicts before they actually come up. The obsessive worrying didn't happen this time, though, and I missed it. I feel terrible because the tickets were a gift, and part of me is thinking "This is what happens when you let yourself relax." Between the handiness of the Pre's calendar and having good things going on in my life, I stopped worrying that I was going to forget something important all the time and I forgot about it.

I am feeling pretty emotastic shitty. I felt that I'd come to terms with the idea that I needed an electronic organizer to make it through the day/week. Now I've misplaced it within 24 hours of blowing an important engagement.

Consider this post a vent. If you're wondering what you can do to help, the answer is you don't have to. I'm writing this down to get it out and then move on. That's all I need.

Oooh, I just had a flash of insight. I put the phone in my pocket last night... no, that's not where it was, but it let me figure out where I lost it. Phone has been retrieved, and there are my flash fiction prompts.

Time to go to work.
alexandraerin: (Default)
So, I haven't been doing a good job of following the doctor's advice or my own on the subject of productive uses of time and energy.

I also can't find my PDA, and I just realized today that I also can't find (and haven't been taking) my sleep aids that seem to have a beneficial effect on my moods. Those are easy enough to replace now that I know they're missing, but I think it's part of the big picture... and the big picture is that despite the not entirely negative news about my health, I've been finding myself in a funk.

The worst part of this is experiencing writer's block, which is not something that generally afflicts me. I can find myself written into a corner that requires some creative maneuvering, I can find myself distracted from writing... being able to sit down and stare at the screen and not being able to write... that's new. That's different and weird and frightening.

I think it's over.

The last time I noticed my age it was to make the note that I'd turned 29 and had already surpassed my goals for 30. I still didn't feel 29. I'm sure I'm not the only person at the deep end of their 20s who still catches herself thinking of herself essentially as a child. Having a doctor talk to me about my heart and my blood pressure was... I don't think I've fully processed that yet.

And yet I've got so much going on that I shouldn't be letting it get me down, much less stopping me from doing what I want to do. I had my first online D&D game night this week and it went wonderfully. I thought that would be enough to shake me out of things. It was, but not for very long. I think if I stick with it, it'll be good for me. D&D is my non-writing outlet (though there's a lot of overlap), and for the past year or so since 4E came out, I've kind of been experiencing it in bursts of 4-10 days every few months. A few hours every week seems like a more balanced approach than that.

Meh. Enough mopey-mope. It's Friday. I've hardly written anything this week if you don't count non-fiction (angry screeds and gaming stuff), but I'll have something special for everyone to read tomorrow (something I started writing to break my block, then switched to Tales of MU once I was rolling) and next week is a new week.

...

Hey, things are looking up. I found my PDA.

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