The Process

11 HOURS TO DEADLINE: Probably I shouldn't have put off writing this story that is due in...eleven hours. Probably instead of watching movies this weekend or aggressively snuggling the Christopher, I should have been staring blankly at the computer screen. Just to get the staring-blankly phase of creative output out of the way, you understand, so that I wouldn't have to do it now, when I'm under the gun to get the damn thing done.

It's just not working. Ironic, because the story itself is about a recalcitrant muse. Probably it wasn't wise of me to swipe at my own muse like that; as previously established, she's not the sort to take that kind of behavior sitting down.

She is sitting down right now, though, smiling smugly, swaying casually back and forth in my deskchair. I'm going to be pulling an all-nighter on this one. She knows it. I know it. We both know the other knows.

Bitch.

To this, she shrugs and tosses a grin to Sebastian, sitting on the edge of the desk. He huffs. He's always going on about the evils of procrastination and I make the habit of never listening and now, he has to sit and watch the Muse be smug. 

It is times like this I desperately miss drinking, smoking and all of the other bad writerlish habits I used to have and am no longer permitted to indulge.

TEN HOURS, FIFTEEN MINUTES TO DEADLINE: There is really only one thing to be done. When in doubt, find something to fight.

TEN HOURS TO DEADLINE: Ouh, that worked rather nicely. Thank you, shit writers, for reminding me what shit writing looks like. I can certainly do better than that. Let's get back to work, shall we?

TEN HOURS SOMETHING: You know, I'm just going to go ahead and switch to time tags. STORY DUE AT NOON:

2:10 AM: I have the best cheerleaders in the known universe.
4:11 AM: Need nap now.
8:42 AM: That was rather longer than I wanted it to be. Made coffee; found myself rehearsing What I Am Going To Say To Jasper Fforde under my breath as I filled the machine. Right, I realized, more than one deadline of interest today.

Officially panicking.
10:41 AM: Have given up on skill. Luckily, am writing the part of the story that actively requires no descriptions whatsoever.  Story still not good enough. Have given up on good enough as a premise.

It occurs to me that this is likely the most healthy way to go about writing a rough draft. Get it out first, then worry about polish.

It is worrisome that I am only figuring this out now.
12:10 PM, DEADLINE: Nowhere near good enough. Needs so much work. But fuck it, it's done.
12:54 PM: WHAT IS WITH THESE TECHNICAL ISSUES. Regardless, done, submitted, for better or for worse, done done done done done!