August 12th, 2020 – 686

I hit target at midday today on my break, and journalled right afterwards, but wanted to get back to churning through emails so left this entry until a bit later. It is now ‘a bit later’ and can I just say would it be such a bad thing if we blew up the sun? No really, wiping all life on Earth out is one thing, but it would also be a lot cooler. Heat and lethargy are such unfortunate bedfellows, and speaking of it is close to impossible for me to sleep well in this weather. What is the point of living in the UK if it’s not going to be cold and miserable all the time? That’s its USP for me. Am I going to have to move to Canada? I mean, to be fair Canada looks awesome so I’m not opposed to that…

…Says the guy who has said time and again he’ll never move out of Eastbourne, so take that with a grain of salt. I like having a G&T or some bourbon or rum or a beer in the evening depending on my mood, but at the moment that’s impractical, as it only adds to the heat induced nausea. What also adds to that is rowing, and I found out today that I should be doing 22-24 at most rows a minute right now. I’ve been doing 31 consistently since I got the machine, so perhaps I need to slow down a tad. Not sure, and I doubt I’ll be any better for wear with the change.

Do you notice how I’m not talking about The Wanderer? Let me continue that trend: I’m looking at my net story plans and what I would love to do is spend some time refining TUS, VOL and WHT so that they stand some kind of chance in the Wattys. At the same time I feel awkward not doing my 1K of main story each day, and doing both that and intense edits is going to lead to ‘1K+’-style burnout. It’ll been a year since that failed experiment by then, and I don’t know about you, but I consider that level of debilitating illness in early September of 2020 to be ‘not a good look right now’, so I’d rather avoid a repeat performance. It needs to be done though. Those stories are ok, but they could be great.

Think Imma go lie down and play some Stardew before trying for an early night. Or you know just melting, as is all but inevitable. Oh, and the more or less daily ‘why am I not submitting work to agents’/’why am I not writing more short stories for contests’ existential dread that’s getting a lot stronger than it used to be. I need some serious help there…