Stop. It's Writing Time.
My desire to write is always strongest when I'm trapped in the middle of a day job project, partly from sheer creative frustration, and partly because I tend to listen to a lot of writing-related podcasts while I'm working. Of course, I can't usually DO any writing then, aside from the longhand snippets in my morning notebook (SPOILER: Jill totally boinks a faery). And now that the day job projects are over, I feel a bit lost and at loose ends. I haven't seriously written for a while. The pipes are clogged. I most want to write something new, but I have two works-in-progress, and Circus of Brass and Bone really needs to die in a fire--er, I mean, come to the satisfying and awesome conclusion that I have outlined. I'm just at that point in the project where I'm in the home stretch and I desperately want to be done.
But there are all these other novels waiting for me to write them!
The badass hidden species in space!
The vampires/aliens making light toxic so that humans can also only exist in the dark!
The intertwined fantasy/sci-fi Snow Queen retelling, now with hallucinations and military experiments!
The Burroughs-esque narration of The Last Earthling--or is he?
The Machiavellian plotting of the second-born of the space Tsar--it's for a good cause, he wants to save us all!
The cyberpunk Oriental Express!
The throwaway urban fantasy novel!
The exodus of the gargoyles!
Oh, yeah. I think there's something I'm supposed to be doing instead of writing this blog entry.