I really derailed myself pretty good last week. I would have liked to have belted something out just to meet the deadline, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it…plus whenever I sat down to write I was all fevery and my paragraphs were essentially gibberish. What was annoying was that it’s not like I was dying of the plague. I felt okay as far as things went, my brain just couldn’t put one thought in front of the other. It might have been fun to force myself to write something and see what came out but I opted for resting and trying to get better.
Not the point. Point being this current story was supposed to be a pretty stupid story to begin with, but when I give myself more time to work on something sometimes I get it into my head that I should tinker a lot with everything and try and make it work on a billion different levels and have all sorts of sly jokes and hidden references and things like that. Basically it starts becoming more fun to think about writing the story than it does to actually write the thing. A half a step after that is never writing the story because it never seems to live up to your expectations. Which isn’t good. So I’m just going to write this mother and be done with it. It’s stupid. It’s been done before. And the punchline is, I realize now, kind of stolen directly from Douglas Adams. But I need to get it done so I can move on and get the next one in on time and thereby get this cruise ship back on track.