Well, I got the proofs off via email, and now I have no more excuses. I have to work on the new Ice/Fire book. And I'm scared. I've been fighting the depression so long (and then gracefully sinking into it for a while) that now that I'm climbing out I'm terrified.
Partly it's because the first book of the new series was such a fabulous book to write. I actually celebrated when I had time to write (I wrote a lot of it while I was in a play which was totally exhausting). And it's so good. I was calling it SCALDED, I think they ended up calling it CONSUMED BY FIRE. Anyway, it consumed me. And I'm afraid to start again.
I've got a deadline. And I don't get paid if I don't write. But even more important, I'm not happy if I'm not writing. And yet there's something stopping me. Maybe I'm afraid to look behind the curtain and see that the wizard is James Franco. Well, hell, I wouldn't mind if the wizard was James Franco. But you know, just heading into the realms of fantasy here, I bet James Franco in bed is kind of like the hero in Susan Elizabeth Phillips's CALL ME IRRESISTIBLE. He drove the heroine crazy because he was so intent on performing and giving her the best sex of her life, and never lost it himself. I think James Franco would be like that.
But I digress. I see me therapist tomorrow. In fact, I have tons of books on writers' block. It's not that serious (yet). I'm just not sure how to start.
I usually think of war terminology. Now I'm thinking of High Noon, me and the seemingly impenetrable barrier between me and my salvation (the book). I just need to believe and that barrier will shatter.
I just need a magic bullet, but I don't like guns unless they're wielded by sexy spies or resolute women. Magic arrow? Now I'm getting into Robin Hood territory.
Doesn't matter. A well-hefted brick will do. I can do it.