I’ve been generally pretty frustrated for the last month, which is a terrible way to feel, but I still got a lot of work done. I edited my novel and sent it out to some beta readers who I hope to hear back from in a few months.
I haven’t really posted here since the election, and there are a lot of reasons, I suppose. None of them especially good, except for the one where I edited 1,000 pages of a book. I’ve opened up new drafts several times in the last month but never got past a sentence.
I was too angry, maybe. Too depressed. Too fatalistic. Whatever the case was, I’m glad I didn’t write anything, because it would’ve simply been an expression of anger, of frustration, of hopelessness, and I don’t think that’s necessarily productive.
I’ve done a lot less of saying things online since the election. There are a few reasons for that.
The first is that I think it’s more important to listen.
Trump’s presidency means a lot of different things to various groups of people, and so I’ve been trying to listen to those who will be most effected by the changes that will happen in this country. If you scroll through my twitter feed from the last month, it’s mostly just retweets. Retweeting and signal boosting voices who I think matter right now.
I don’t think what I have to say is especially important, since Trump’s presidency may never directly impact my life as an individual. That’s a big may in that last sentence, but I think it’s an important one.
It will effect people I know, however. A lot of them. And many more that I don’t know.
And so my voice in all this seems to me far less important than their voices. And so I’ve been reading, listening.
I have a lot of thoughts about all of it, but I don’t think writing it here will be especially useful to me or others, and so much of this will likely remain private unless you choose to engage me for my opinion.
I think this is something important for me to do as well, and, in general, it’s something I’ve been gradually doing more of for the last three years. Restraining myself from adding my voice to conversations.
Probably if you read this site much, you can guess what I think about most things, but who knows. It doesn’t really matter what I think, ultimately.
Even this post is kind of purposeless, just rambling with my fingers.
One thing I did this week, sort of as an outlet for my fears and frustrations, is write some poetry about Trump, which is something I never thought I’d do. And it’s been a long time since I’ve written any poetry, let alone poetry about a reality TV star.
I’ve written three, and will likely write a total of ten or so, whenever the mood strikes me. I’m collecting them under the title of The Golden King.
Also, Tor.com has a submission window open but it’s closing in the middle of January, and I thought I had something to submit, but it turns out to be about 5,000 words short of the minimum, which means I’m going to be spending some time this month to write something new.
It’s about a woman who’s a giant monster hunter. It should be suitably awesome.
But, yeah, I was hoping to take a long break from writing now that I’ve finished my behemoth of a novel. Was hoping to play some videogames, read some books, and just relax while the beta readers read my novel. But now I have something new to do.
But it was a bizarre feeling, having nothing to write or edit for a few days. I’ve never worked on a project as long as I’ve worked on Songs of My Mother, and never written so consistently. So I felt sort of aimless and listless for a few days. All of a sudden, it was bizarre to not have a project looming over me.
Because, really, I’ve been thinking about or working on a novel for most of the year. To just not have that project weighing on my shoulders like a mountain felt…just strange. Not even really a relief. Just like something was missing.
Anyrate, I guess I don’t have much to say. I’ve been listening to this song on repeat though. Hopefully you like it too.