greygirlbeast (greygirlbeast) wrote,
greygirlbeast
greygirlbeast

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All this pretend.

I wake up this morning to discover that Howard Hughes has been named a full partner, while CRK struggles on in anonymity. Where the fuck would those four be without me, I ask? But if I start complaining now, they'll send Herr Platypus around with hisherits venomous spurs. And sure, that can be fun every now and then, but I think I'm getting track marks from the toxin. So, I bite my tongue, do as I'm told, and try not the notice these little insults and trifling slights.

There comes a moment when one realizes she has too much on her plate, and that it's making her sick, and something has to change. I've had it happen twice before. But not in a long while. I always take on more than I can manage. That's just the way of things. But. Yesterday afternoon I finally reached the point where it was clear that something had to go. Maybe two somethings, but at least one. I am not well. And I am not well because there's is too much work and too much stress, and I have neglected my health. The only way I can hope to get well again is let up on myself a bit. So, to wit, yesterday I called Bill Schafer at Subterranean Press, and told him one of the very last things I wanted to be telling him. That I have to shelve The Dinosaurs of Mars indefinitely. It just isn't coming out the way I want, and there's not time to begin again, as August is already crammed with deadlines. He was extremely understanding, but asked to keep the book under contract (as they were just signed last week), since I do plan to get it written eventually. I agreed, and was very grateful for his patience. So, yes, shelved indefinitely. And I apologise to all those who have been eagerly awaiting this particular book. You're gonna have to wait at least another year, and maybe longer than that.

So, yeah, there you go.

I was still wide awake at 4:30 a.m. this morning, when I finally broke down and took an Ambien for the first time in days. Then some idiot with a leaf-blower woke me at 9:30 a.m. I swear to fucking...well, to whoever or whatever it is that formerly human atheist witches swear to...that this leaf-blower thing is going to drive me to become civic minded. The damn things are being banned all over the country. They destroy the soil, kill small creatures, pollute the air, consume copious quantities of fossil fuel, and damage hearing, and they're unregulated, and Atlanta is another city that can do without them. Buy a goddamn rake, people. Or let fallen leaves lie. Not that leaves are falling in July in Atlanta. These fuckers just blow dirt around, mostly. It baffles me. Truly.

I am pleased to report, though, that we're only about one third of the way through Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

Spooky just asked me to mention the eBay auctions, which I am now doing. Have a look. Bid. Help keep the platypus at bay. And so forth.

I have come to a place where exhaustion seems to stretch on forever, in all directions. I lie down, but cannot sleep. I lie still, but cannot rest my mind. My mind is working always, always gnawing, always remembering, even when drugged. Even in those rare hours of sleep. And so I am run ragged. And truly, it's not been this bad in years.

The LJ entries might be light for the next few days, as I try to reconstitute. Then again, they might not. I have to consider all that's left on my plate, and how to proceed from here. Oh, and Hi, Captain Susenko and Miss Maertens. Professor Nishi instructed me to bid you both a good day and thanks for the evening's company. And I do ever as the good Professor asks, as her name is on the masthead. Me, I just take up space in this skull.
Tags: exhaustion, harry potter, insomnia, stress, tdom, writing
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