We All Float Down Here, Georgie…
Under the Gun
I’m writing, dearies. no worries there. I’ve just been writing at a much slower pace than I am used to. It makes for an interesting clash, since my brain is telling me the story faster than I want to write it. This is a curious problem, no doubt. Not a bad one, mind you. Just… curious.
Wraithkin is motoring right along. There is just something about this story that won’t let me go. I’ve tried writing other stuff while working on it, but nothing seems up to snuff. I literally cannot wrap my head around anything else while writing it, which explains my rather poor submission to a horror anthology. I hope it doesn’t make me look bad for future submissions to said editor. He’s mildly forgiving, I believe.
Granted, if it’s accepted, than I won’t feel as horrible as I do right now.
I’m starting to fall behind on deadlines, which is usually bad news. However, I’ve found that, when backed against a wall, things come to me easier. I guess the pressure of failing scares me more than an impending deadline. Strangely enough, I still would rather not have to worry about breaking a deadline or writing as though my entire existence hinged upon me finishing something.
I used to be so good at budgeting my time, too.
What is it about being under the gun that makes me tick so? Any ideas?