Toil of the Creator
Dec. 28th, 2012 03:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rinueI still have a cold and am limited in what I can take for it; "medication" amounts to a cup of warm port in the morning to space out the coughs. After more than a week of this, my lungs are secreting clear and viscous mucus instead of whitish-yellow curds, so it seems that I am winning.
With the cold and no interruption to work, Christmas, like Thanksgiving, is mostly blurry. I sang Christmas morning as usual, but not terribly well. (My throat is mostly fine, but my lung capacity is limited.) This whole winter is smeary. I am maybe trying to do too many things, most of which are not yet visible to most people. The eternal trouble of creative work.*
Dad has hung a large mirror in the attic hallway, so when I walk out of my office, there I am, big as life.
* Among other things, I'm getting some work done for the ICA, writing an article for Arc, composing a song for the Boar's Head Feast, writing replacement music for Hayseeds and Scalawags, and trying to send out submissions and thank you cards and revised contracts for Strange Horizons, going through my files to see if I have any useful plays for a friend's theater company... Various stories/scripts/films/songs on the back burner for now, but essential to finish.
On the one hand, it is nice that my creative career is ramping up, which is what I have been working toward. On the other hand, it's not yet at the point where I can cut back on my day job. So I'm just working flat out, all the time, and not doing the best job that could be done in either place. Which leaves me raggedy and succeptible to colds.
With the cold and no interruption to work, Christmas, like Thanksgiving, is mostly blurry. I sang Christmas morning as usual, but not terribly well. (My throat is mostly fine, but my lung capacity is limited.) This whole winter is smeary. I am maybe trying to do too many things, most of which are not yet visible to most people. The eternal trouble of creative work.*
Dad has hung a large mirror in the attic hallway, so when I walk out of my office, there I am, big as life.
* Among other things, I'm getting some work done for the ICA, writing an article for Arc, composing a song for the Boar's Head Feast, writing replacement music for Hayseeds and Scalawags, and trying to send out submissions and thank you cards and revised contracts for Strange Horizons, going through my files to see if I have any useful plays for a friend's theater company... Various stories/scripts/films/songs on the back burner for now, but essential to finish.
On the one hand, it is nice that my creative career is ramping up, which is what I have been working toward. On the other hand, it's not yet at the point where I can cut back on my day job. So I'm just working flat out, all the time, and not doing the best job that could be done in either place. Which leaves me raggedy and succeptible to colds.
