One word at a time.

Even if it's "the".

The trouble with having once written a novel in three weeks is thinking, when one has taken three weeks to recover from concussion that one should have written a novel in them.

Sometimes umbrellas turn over and float away, bearing you with them...

Oh, yes. That umbrella. *nods in recognition* Just so.

*eyes umbrella prongs uneasily*

I am very much looking forward to The Mirador, if it helps.

My metaphor for this, sadly influenced by way too much literary theory, is The Monolith. Not in the Arthur Clarke sense, but in the sense of "Wait! Look! There are people subverting the dominant paradigm over here! Okay, one person. Okay, she is participating in the dominant paradigm, but with 'TUDE. That counts!!!"

That gigantic structure is coming DOWN, one ironic eyebrow at a time.

As the person who helped poke you with sharp sticks out from under the even larger and less attractive umbrella of the dissertation, I offer my heartfelt empathy and a rousing cheer in celebration of websurfing, with a side of "Oh, quit your whining and write the damn novel already." Because that's just the kind of broad-minded person I am. Heh.

thanks for posting this--it's definitely words I need to hear today. Back to my doable task...

And the umbrella of Damocles doesn't go away. It hangs invisibly above your head and just waits. Because it knows that, sooner or later, you have to look up.

And then it can fall on you and tear your face off.

Is the umbrella of Damocles the land-dwelling cousin of the vampire squid?

"Umbrella of Damocles hangin' over my head" doesn't scan, damn it.

I needed to hear this today.
Thanks.

But... but... the Russians are just about to fall, and I think we have modern armor parity with the Greeks. And my spies say that I have to take Osaka right now, or the Japanese will finish the Manhattan Project.

Completely off-topic to anything, I thought I'd pass along a link to someone whom I just told about your first book (bought it, then descended into an overtime hell which I'm only beginning to see fade away): John Oliphant from Governor's School, who recalls us doing "an awesome 10 minute reading of your apocalyptic fantasy epic set in Memphis."

I think he was being a bit tongue in cheek. I remember The King and the Loan Arranger having parts in what we read. But anyway, thought I'd mention that he's around and kicking (and apparently an attorney in Nashville). Hope you're well.

Thanks!

Glad you're still kicking, too.

And don't forget that the handle of that umbrella is the things you say to yourself about the impossible task.

No matter how small you divide the pieces of the impossible task, if you keep telling yourself "I hate it, and I can't do it" then you don't even have to look up for the umbrella of Damocles to come crashing down. If you don't have any faith that you can do it, that means no umbrella handle, and no support to hold that umbrella up, so it squashes you flat.

On the other hand, divide the task into do-able pieces and constantly repeat the martra "I can do this, and this task is easy for me" and pretty soon your subconscious actually starts believing it, and that umbrella's handle becomes so strong it doesn't matter how many times you look up, the umbrella is still up there, high above you. Sure, it's still hanging over you, but it's not a big deal, because you know it isn't going to come crashing down.

*smile* Is that taking the image too far? *chuckle* But I'm facing much the same thing, a massive re-edit of a 560+ page manuscript... and the tape running in my head for the last couple weeks has been: "I hate editing, I hate editing". What I really hate is re-learning lessons I thought I knew. "Editing is easy, mistakes are obvious, changes flow freely."


Jackie, your DucKon Writer's Track head