Or, it ain't easy being feeling green.
OMG, y'all. SUCH a bump on the proverbial log this week. Seriously. I hang my head in mortal shame. Oh, dread and dire Interwebz. How you sucked me into your vile vortex of non-productivity. All under the guise of Doing Something. And yet, I have only myself to blame. Snarl.
Which is not to say I didn't get ANYTHING done. As it happens, I was swept into prepartions for the launch of Brighid's Cross. (Three weeks! ARGH!!) I've requested reviews. Played email tag with a couple of reviewers. Done one or two interviews. Established a Goodreads author Q&A group, and started a couple of contests. Inspired by the Serious Shenanigans of our ROW80 Twitter celebration, I decided to throw a Halloween Launch Party on October 31 (all day) at hashtag #keepers (yes, you are all invited. Did you have to ask?). Considered an internet scavenger hunt, but wasn't sure how to pull it off. Oh, and then I fell over.
That was Saturday.
Sunday, I decided, was going to be a Designated Writing Day to make up for lost time. The universe preceded to mock me with lack of sleep and feeling generally awful, with nary a Tylenol, fragment of tea, or pint of Ben & Jerry's in the house. I had no motivation to drag my aching back and sagging butt into the Chair of Doom before my computer. I didn't even have the energy to turn it on. Sigh.
But. BUT. All was not lost! For I said to myself, "Self! How did we ever manage to write before computers? Or when said precious is spewing virus material all over its (namely my) hard drive? How did Shakespeare do it?" So intead I sagged and dragged my writerly posterior to hubby's recliner in the living room instead, armed with notebook and pen. And, verily, the floodgates opened. I storyboarded all my planned scenes and got the significant images, action and dialogue down on paper en prose. It worked so well I've decided I'm going to continue to do this until the last week in October, when I'll have the time to enter it all into Scrivener. This will also limit the time I'm actuall on my computer during the week, being distracted by the Pretty Shinies. Hubby is wondering when he'll get his recliner back. Probably never, at this rate.
I also learned, to my detriment, that my beloved Wii is a mite passive agressive. For a Japanese product, it sure has mastered the art of Maternal Irish Guilt. Mama Monkey would be smug. I'm seriously thinking about changing the name of my (obese) Mii, so I can pretend it's talking to someone else.
Yeah, that didn't work with Mama Monkey, either. Such are the perils of only-child-hood.
Happy goaling this week!