Even I Can't Sustain The Writing Past a Certain Point

Ok, I'm giving it up. I didn't get as far as I wanted to get tonight (took time out to talk to my mom so we didn't need to talk in the morning, did some emailing, etc.) but I got a good start, and I think I'll be fresher and it will go more quickly in the morning, so I've made the decision just to stop for the night and to pick up where I've left off in the morning. A girl cannot work from 9:30 AM until infinity, and I've reached the breaking point.

I have to say, though, I'm excited. I think that what I'm writing is ultimately a really interesting and well-written book. I have a hard time owning that it's a book, or that it's mine. I generally refer to it as "the" thing or "the" manuscript - sometimes as "the book" but only rarely, as if it's something divorced from me. And when I'm working on it, that divorce is exacerbated because if I think of it as "mine" I feel overwhelmed or too committed to what I've already written or something. So I approach it as this weird and alien thing, this thing upon which I have to enact something rather than as something that is coming out of me. But now I'm tired, and I don't have the energy to keep the distance, and so it's mine. It's my manuscript. It's my book. And I think that it's not the most important book in the world, but I do think that people will get something out of it. I do think that it is a book, and I think that it isn't entirely terrible. There are things about it that could be different, and even better in some cases, but I think I'm ok with that. The point isn't that it will be or can be perfect. What book is? The point is that it will be the best that I can make it. And that's enough.

And tonight I can't do a thing else to it. I'm too exhausted from focusing on it all day long (with a few breaks for boy-craziness -not generally mine- and gossip with friends and a conversation with my mom about my nutso cousin with whom she went to dinner the other night) and too wired at the same time for anything else that I do to it to be any good. So instead I'm writing a winding down for the night blog post, and I'm drinking a glass of wine, and I'm thinking about how I'm going to structure my day tomorrow, and I'm wondering whether I'll feel far enough along to go for a ride in a hot car the next day. And I'm listening to music, music organized with another person in mind, but which is perfect for my mood right at this second. Which reminds me that I should send the music organized with another person in mind to that person, as he's going to England in like a week, and if I don't send it in the next couple of days, I probably won't send it ever. And then the person for whom the music was organized won't get a birthday/travel present, which really was the point, after all.

I so want to post what I'm listening to, but then the person will not be surprised. I hate it when people I know in life read my blog. "There's just no privacy anymore!" (I'm totally laughing in a very exhausted way as I write this. Special shout-out to anybody who recognizes that quote.)

Hmmm... what else? Again, I'm in the exhausted and wired place, and so I'm not tired, just fried. And so I want to write, but I can't work on the book, and I also can't really manage coming up with decent content. Maybe I'll have an idea soon. For now, though, I think I should go catch up with my celebrity gossip websites. Thank god this will be over in a few days!