It’s been nice over this last week or so reviewing books. That’s all I’ve been doing with my time. Just living in other people’s worlds, or my own world while I’m writing. I’d forgotten how much I preferred them to this one.
And how nice it was to feel productive. I may not be able to do normal life stuff right now, but my god can I write. I even wrote some poetry, though I won’t punish anyone by making them read it.
My big milestone right now is that I’m 40,000 words into the latest draft of Alternate. It’s going to be tough to find people to read for me, and I still have constant worries that I’ll be misrepresenting people with Dissociative Identity Disorder no matter what I do, but I’m going to try. I have a special place in my heart for this story, no matter what.
It’s only been a week. And I have nothing to do with my life right now but read, write, and complete a massive thing of research which mostly consists of waiting for my data to come in and then a mad rush to write a paper at the end. So I imagine there will be many more reviews, more reading, more everything. I can really just lose myself right now.
Also, I’m enjoying getting lost in Baudelaire’s poetry right now. That’s irrelevant to everything but it’s still beautiful.