greygirlbeast (greygirlbeast) wrote,

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life after

I was greatly relieved to see, this morning, the rate at which the military is finally evacuating refugees from the city of New Orleans — from the Convention Center, in particular. It should have happened long days ago, but I think surely everyone knows that. There's terrible irony in this, that Bush's idea of "homeland security" is so obsessed with "protecting" us from largely maufactured threats that it took the American military days to respond to a domestic natural disaster which has almost certainly killed far more people than the attacks on 9/11. A fitting spectacle for the "Age of Irony," I suppose. But yes, I'm relieved. However, as the Gulf Coast and the nation slowly come to grips with this catastrophe and its many consequences and then slowly begins to recover, I have to hope that they will not turn a blind eye to this latest disregard for human life by the Bush Administration. And if they do forget, they must be made to remember.

Once again, if you can help, please contact the American Red Cross.

Okay. Onwards. Because onwards is the only route we're allowed.

Confession: I am exhausted. Exhausted to the point that I have begun to have these scary days where my body simply shuts down. Like yesterday. I managed to do 1,099 words on Chapter Eight before it hit me. I spent the rest of the afternoon dizzy and half-awake. Too much stress. Far too little sleep. Far too little exercise, and I'm not exactly a kid anymore. I think I'm being taught, painfully, rudely, that I have to stop treating my body and mind like I did in my twenties. I was sternly warned about this last summer and even passed the warnings along to my agent. I promised myself and Spooky and everyone else that I would slow down, but I didn't. It's hard to slow down when you know that only by writing X number of books/stories per year will I keep the bills paid, and that X amount of writing requires N amount of work. No, it's not hard. It's impossible. At least I slept last night, a good eight hours, at least. It's probably been two or three weeks since I've slept that much all at once.

If I can stay focused and working, I should be able to finish Chapter Eight by tomorrow evening. It has become a chapter of unexpected turns and twists. I think something very bad is about to happen, something I didn't see coming until yesterday, and I cannot allow my affection for any character to detour the story from the direction that it needs to take. And that's a bitch. If I'm a "self-indulgent" writer, what does it mean when I allow a character I love to die? That I'm also a masochistic writer?

I renewed yesterday. It's hard to believe that I first registered that domain three years ago. Three years. I haven't yet made nearly as much of it as I'd hoped to. Hope springs eternal, though. It's probably a bad idea for an over-worked fiction writer to try to take up a vast fictional project as her hobby, but there you go.

At this point, it seems unlikely that I'll be called to Birmingham this weekend, and I'm starting to feel very sorry that I'm not at Dragon*Con right now. But, in the wake of Katrina, I probably wouldn't have been able to enjoy it much, anyway.

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