I’ve been sick for a few days, and I was too sleepy (not to mention sneezy, dopey, and grumpy) to write a thing. I started to feel a little better last night, so I bullied myself to the computer to get some writing done. Book 2 waits for no cold! (Except when it does.)
Practically the minute I began typing, I started getting emails from my mother (who’d finally finished the book), texts from one of the boys (who’s flying overseas today and decided it was time to freak out), and then someone showed up with a whole string of “Hey, I need you to…”s. Because of course they did. I don’t need a writing room, I need a writing shelter.
Managing distractions can be difficult. It’d be easy to chuck the phone into another room and leave it there, or to turn off the internet, but even if I tried to do that, it wouldn’t last long. I can’t always work without an internet connection, because there’s stuff I need to know. Like whether you could make a hilt for a dagger out of a human femur. You know, important stuff for the book. And if I’m going to leave the internet on, then what’s the point of leaving the phone in another room? If they can’t get me on the phone, they’ll just start bugging me via email or IMs or something.
Mostly, I need to figure out a way to close the stupid door. I may have to drill a hole through the wall so that I can move the cables that are preventing it from shutting. Except… that probably won’t work. Shutting the door doesn’t prevent people from banging on it. Or shouting through it. That would be a whole ‘nother type of renovation.
I still don’t have a title for book 2. We’re at just over 120k words (I don’t know what that means, except that it’s a lot of words) and the brain gnomes don’t care. They won’t help. I say, “Hey, guys, how about a title?” and they just shrug and make that dumb “I dunno” noise. I beg, they cackle. I threaten, they scoff. I swear… if this keeps up, I’m calling it This One Doesn’t Have a Name and ya’ll can just think I’m crazy. Er.