So my life went from relatively uncomplicated to about Dante's Inferno level of bedlam. I've just started the second round of editing for my novel, which is due by the end of the month. I'm the kind of person that when I know time is ticking, I feel it. So I'm nail biting the fuck out of my fingers because I'm trying to get things done and the rest of my life is pulling me in different directions.
Editing, for all those that haven't experienced, is the painful combination of exciting (at least the first time) and tedious. The first round was, though stressful, very educational and fun. Yes, I tore my story to shreds and added/removed things, but it was a process I've never done before. So I loved it all. Not to say that I'm not enjoying this. But it's about as exciting as watching dog shit...just not as disgusting. I'm staring at a computer for hours, going through and making grammatical corrections. You wouldn't think that's exhausting, but it is. So for all you newbie authors out there, brace your self for the tedious side of writing. Every job has it. Ours just sucks majorly.
So what does sex have to do with anything?
Well, in the midst of all my editing/writing chaos, I'm also playing cupid. And it's damn near as stressful. Trying to make arrangements for your best friend to get with someone (I won't say who~) is tiring, when you have to make everyone happy.
It probably doesn't help that my sex/love life has severely dropped to a big ol' fat 0 once I got back from Cali. So long love life. I'm devoted to writing. The only male company I get is two gay guys in a story and the man in my dreams.
Can we all say, pathetic? Anyone else running through a dry spell? Lets all have a collective sigh.