I have been trying so hard to get the next historical novel revised and published by the end of October, but it's just not going to happen. Depression has been a real problem for the past several weeks, and it has interfered with my writing tremendously, as have all the a-holes at the library who have no manners. You see, I've found that if I expect myself to write while I'm at home I never write anything at all. I find all kinds of excuses to avoid writing, such as doing laundry, starting new and exciting crafts, or taking a nap. And while laundry, sleep, and making spooky ghosts out of cheesecloth and starch are all very important, so is my writing. So when it's time to write, I really need to remove myself to someplace else to get the work done.
My place of choice is the public library. The one in my town is usually excellent and quiet and it's open seven days a week (albeit with short hours on the weekends) so I can plan to write every day, no matter what my work schedule is like. I'm transitioning to a new, better-paying day job next week and I will probably not be able to make much use of the library then. We're looking into some options to keep me writing. Renting some tiny, shoebox-sized office space might work out. The books are selling well enough that we could probably justify the expense, although not so well yet that we can just take office-space rental for granted without having to really justify it. I'd be more comfortable waiting on that until the money isn't an issue.
So I'll probably have to figure out a means of making the library work, or hit a library for a few hours on the way home that's closer to the new job. I am hoping that I can continue to use this one -- it's USUALLY so peaceful, except on days like today when people sit right next to me chewing gum with their mouths open and I have to get up and frantically search for a more secluded seat that also has a place to plug in my laptop, where I can hide in my personal bubble and not listen to nausea-inducing sounds of smacking and chewing. Seriously, adults have no reason to chew with their mouths open. Especially not in a public place. This is the kind of totally unacceptable behavior, indicative of willful social cluelessness and/or apathy, that ends marriages. In fact if it were socially acceptable for me to kick the noisy gum-chewer in the face, I would have done that instead of scarpering to my corner.
Anyway, how about some short fiction? Kindle, Nook. The Kindle version of Finnegan's Pig should be up soon; I am in the process of convincing Amazon that publishing rights for that story reverted to me back in 2010.