Diaries || What's on your mind?

It's the 16th of November. There are 15 days left, including today.

Every night I am happy because I met my target, and every morning I realize that I have to do the same thing all over again.

I pushed a bit last night and hit 10,000 words, which is actually the target for the end of today. A little bit of buffer is nice to have.

The trailer shudders, making the desk and computer shake. Before the fixed supports were installed, when the trailer was just sitting on its wheels (with springs), we would get seasick when the wind picked up. One weather forecast says winds 30km/hr, another 20kts, but I don't buy it. It feels like 80km/hr or more - what you feel when you put your hand out the car window on a highway.

Posting here because Kuro5hin doesn't seem like a fit place.  Any tips on breaking the cycle of relentless editing?

Over the last month and a half, I have spent many dollars and many hours, travelling very quickly and not going far at all. The last while, I have been going around in circles - literally. It sounds like the Red Queen's Race, if you only look at the distance I've gone - or haven't gone.

But in that time, I learned enough to fly a plane without an instructor beside me to save my ass if I screw up. Yesterday, I flew solo. And boy does that little plane climb when it drops more than half its passenger load!

In which the author muses about the editing process.

Despite numerous people raging over the idea that Literary Criticism is a waste of time, not effective in producing good art, and generally the realm of pompous wankers with nothing better do with in their talentless lives, Literary Criticism is really a very important aspect of quality writing. Without it, there would be no way to determine what is good and what is bad, because, even in its most raw form, every reader of a book is a critic.

Snow falls, but rarely vertically. The wind sculpts drifts, layering their structure and leaving a record of the winter. Here was a sunny day, where the drift got an ice shell. There, gale-force winds, polishing the surface into hard-packed ridges.

Snow boulders expose their sedimentary layers, the sun and wind and bare ground an archaeologist slowly chipping away, exposing the history of the past winter.

A completely conventional story in which everyone who misbehaves is punished.

Some thoughts on the subject of driving to and from work each day.