My Muse was working overtime this week. Normally I struggle to do a chapter of my long fic. This week I wrote FIVE – yes FIVE – one shots as well. I know the reasons. Main one – my DH is away. It’s not that he actually minds me writing, just that I feel terribly self-conscious doing it. My kids’ lives tend to revolve around staring at screens anyway, so as long as we have one each, we rub along. I can take the laptop to bed, and did at weekends – evenings to write, mornings to catch up with LJ and email in private. I wonder how many writers do their best work in bed? I could certainly get into the habit, but only if I slept alone.
There were some other inspirations – it’s really been a fantastic DW week, with the S3 box set released, the soundtrack album and, of course, the wonderful CiN special. Suddenly it doesn’t seem all that long to Christmas after all. Is it possible for DW to give people the will to live? I remember feeling really, really down about this time last year and actually thinking, “But if I die, I’ll miss the Christmas Special, so I can’t really want everything to be over.”
Now this is really weird. I have all these lovely DVDs – no box set as yet, but every New Who episode, on my shelf and every day I really do intend to settle down and watch them, but I don’t. It’s almost because I care about them too much. I can’t bear to think of anybody coming in and spoiling it for me. Now my kids both watch huge quantities of shameless rubbish with no qualms whatsoever. Yet I feel there’s something very private about my own fannishness. Strange, isn’t it?
Today I actually got some RL stuff done. Last week I felt lousy, most of the time – I think I had some bug, and I was probably staying up a bit too late. Whatever, I just wanted to sleep the whole day through. But today that shifted, for some odd reason. I went to the gym, had a long session tidying up the garden and made my Christmas mincemeat, and did no writing at all…..could there be a connection, I wonder?