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Exactly the way many of my elders warned me about in my youth, time seems to go a lot faster for me now than it did even a handful of years ago. Part of this phenomenon manifests in my being surprised at how much time has passed since certain events took place. Really, The Incredibles came out nine years ago? popped into my head the other day when I was re-watching it with my niece and nephews. Next year it'll honestly have been ten years since I started making serious efforts to publish? occurred a few days before that. A few minutes ago it was What do you mean it's been over two weeks since my last blog entry?
But looking forward--as said elders also warned me about--has the opposite problem. The future contracts. Particularly the immediate future. More particularly, deadlines in the immediate future. Today I was working merrily along on the Final final edits of Lest Camelot Fall when it suddenly hit me: They're due on Thursday! That's only three more days! Not that I didn't know this already, and I'll have the work done by then, but three days feels like a lot less time than it used to.
Granted, this has its benefits. When I was a teenager and was awfully certain that I had all the time in the world, stuff simply didn't get done. Like homework and studying. (Though part of that was because I spent much of that homework-study time writing books.) Now I'm slowly, slowly turning this psychological panic to my advantage. All right, if you think you're running out of time, and that so many years are behind you, use that pressured feeling to keep getting work done. While this makes me feel doubly guilty when I don't actually get any writing done, my writing pace overall has been better the last few years than the few previous with what I hope is consistent quality. And it would likely be a good habit to get into if I'm lucky enough to publish more novels, with all the loads of post-writing / pre-publishing work they entail.
So here's where I am today: along with Camelot, I'm knocking out a small bit of pre-writing on the Secret Project that I also need to get out this week, and I wrote 500 words on Copper Heart yesterday. Not a lot or very good, I think, but my first words there in two weeks. If I feel doubly guilty when I don't write, I feel doubly good getting back to writing when I've been away for awhile, even if I'm not all that happy with the words. (That includes this blog.)
And while I also feel this time dilation hitting me in other ways that include thinking my niece and nephews are growing up entirely too fast, it's a good reminder not to just bury myself in writing but also enjoy the small moments as they happen. Whether it's watching cute videos with the childrens . . .
But looking forward--as said elders also warned me about--has the opposite problem. The future contracts. Particularly the immediate future. More particularly, deadlines in the immediate future. Today I was working merrily along on the Final final edits of Lest Camelot Fall when it suddenly hit me: They're due on Thursday! That's only three more days! Not that I didn't know this already, and I'll have the work done by then, but three days feels like a lot less time than it used to.
Granted, this has its benefits. When I was a teenager and was awfully certain that I had all the time in the world, stuff simply didn't get done. Like homework and studying. (Though part of that was because I spent much of that homework-study time writing books.) Now I'm slowly, slowly turning this psychological panic to my advantage. All right, if you think you're running out of time, and that so many years are behind you, use that pressured feeling to keep getting work done. While this makes me feel doubly guilty when I don't actually get any writing done, my writing pace overall has been better the last few years than the few previous with what I hope is consistent quality. And it would likely be a good habit to get into if I'm lucky enough to publish more novels, with all the loads of post-writing / pre-publishing work they entail.
So here's where I am today: along with Camelot, I'm knocking out a small bit of pre-writing on the Secret Project that I also need to get out this week, and I wrote 500 words on Copper Heart yesterday. Not a lot or very good, I think, but my first words there in two weeks. If I feel doubly guilty when I don't write, I feel doubly good getting back to writing when I've been away for awhile, even if I'm not all that happy with the words. (That includes this blog.)
And while I also feel this time dilation hitting me in other ways that include thinking my niece and nephews are growing up entirely too fast, it's a good reminder not to just bury myself in writing but also enjoy the small moments as they happen. Whether it's watching cute videos with the childrens . . .
...or introducing our Little Dog to the neighborhood cows...
...or acting as a chauffeur for my friends' kittens . . .
...it's all good. And really, if I can't enjoy the small moments, what would be the point of writing anyway?
