When I haven’t left early or stayed home because of being sick, I’ve been staying really late at the office. Lots of things going on, and the uber-boss has made it clear that this will continue, and that it will be a refining fire, wherein he will see if we’re actually willing to put in the extra effort. And I am. But for some reason, as things are heating up and I’m melting nicely into a puddle of too-much-to-do-ness, I find my desire to write increasing.
Why? Is it because I want to escape from all the pressure? Is it because I actually thrive on having too much to do? I’m not sure. I mean, it’s not like I have time/energy to write. I got home at around 8:30 last night, completely brain-dead. I had dinner, poked my iPhone a little, and went to bed. Hardly a recipe for a dedicated writer. Yet my brain, in its spare time, is actually working on the problem I hit in my screenplay. It doesn’t make a great deal of sense, logically. But my brain has never been particularly fond of logic, so I don’t know why I’m surprised.
Maybe it’s just guilt for not doing NanoWrimo. I didn’t do it last year, but it wasn’t quite as bad, since most of my friends weren’t doing it, either. This year, more are participating, so I feel like I have to justify myself. Which I realize is silly.
I blame Brandon Sanderson, who I have appointed as my nemesis for absolutely no reason at all.
Okay, back to reviewing documents, providing feedback, and trying to dig out of this mountain of work.