Am so tired. Stayed up too late having fun brainstorming with the roommates, but oh how I suffered in workshop today. I’m a bit ashamed, actually. I totally had a mini-temper tantrum in workshop (OMFG DO NOT CUT ME OFF MID-SENTENCE OR I WILL CUT YOU…wait. Where was I? Oh yes, inappropriately LOSING MY MIND due to sleep-dep and cafeteria-food-related starvation…sorry about that, all), then talked myself off the ledge and apologized to all parties concerned. But…yeah. Very embarrassing. Much worse than Bear-related SMUT. (sigh)
Clearly I can’t handle another 8,000 word immersive apocalypse this week or I will shred the last scrids of my creative energy. Realizing this fact, late last night I scrapped the social class piece (hopefully to be postponed to week 5) and I am now trying to do a Valente/Bolander-esque–compact, so help me god–folkloric lyric. In two days. With the Mysterious Galaxy reading moved to be on top of what is usually my best working day of the week (Tues.). I am flipping the fuck out. It would actively destroy my soul to miss Durham’s reading; I don’t think I can do it. He’s lovely in person, and I idolize his epic fantasy like nobody’s biz. But oh, this story is a bucket ‘o shyte and desperately needs more cook-time.
Tonight: Must get a down draft, complete, so I can revise tomorrow afternoon and send out to first readers (Jess/Andy/Dan?) Tuesday. I am cursing myself for losing Sat. already.
Dear readers, the light grows grim.
I understand now why all the instructors tell us to fear week 4. The burnout, it has hit hardcore. JUST KEEP SWIMMING, SELF. Just keep swimming.