(A video of some truly messed up looking writers. At least, these all look like writer types to me. See anyone you recognize?)

So…no 60 in 60 restart this week, and probably not next week, either. I’m currently engaged in a glacial edit war with Booklife and, soon, Finch. I’m still dealing with the developmental edit for the former and then the copy edit for the latter. I feel like I’ve got one hand tied behind my back. I can’t start any new major projects until this other stuff is done. All I can do is discharge heat lightning by pretending to be a wombat on Facebook or turn an aquarium into a nexus for alternate universes or have a marmot answer your writing questions.

Slow slow progress it seems like on these two books that I feel like I’ve been engaged with for so long–mostly my fault because of extending deadlines, of twisting and fighting on the hook to get more time for both to get more perspective to apply that perspective to the edits. It’s grinding work, really. I hate it, but it’s necessary. I want these books to be as perfect as I can make them.

The thing I didn’t expect is to be engaged and re-engaged still, now, in April. And I didn’t expect that editing an all-original nonfiction book would be different than editing a novel. Which is to say, when I revisit Finch, even when I’ve read it dozens of times, there’s still resonance. There’s still something going on that sparks my imagination and makes me feel like there’s a text beyond the text on the page. With Booklife, there’s none of that, and there can’t be. It’s a how-to on sustainable careers and creativity. There is no subtext in the normal sense because the whole point is to be direct and clear in the text itself. So although I’m doing rewrites and adding a few sections, it doesn’t feel at all the same. There’s nothing to fall in love with or react violently against. Weird. Unexpected. Annoying.

Eventually, this will end. In fact, it has to end sometime this month. In the meantime, be patient. I feel like I’m swimming through molasses or something. It feels like everything is in slow-mo. I’ve got like 200 unanswered emails. I’m also frustrated because I want to do a couple extended posts on the amazing Derek Raymond and a couple posts on John Le Carre. The Le Carre posts would be one from the reader’s POV for Omnivoracious cross-linked to an analysis of the same books from a writer’s POV here at Ecstatic Days. Arggh! I really want to do that one.

Still, one good thing about it all: the potential for burn-out with two deadlines so back-to-back, generating and completing two books, has made Ann and I re-evaluate our priorities. I’ve been jettisoning opportunities right and left, and feeling great about it. Steampunk Con? It’s gone. (Well, some other reasons there, too.) That antho? Gooood-bye.

The bad thing about the feeling of encroaching insanity, though, is I just don’t feel like pushing myself this year. Usually, I take on three or four projects or opportunities that force me to do something I’ve never really done before in that context. This year and probably next…I just can’t do it. I have to have some kind of comfort zone to work in for awhile. This has nothing to do with fiction–doing different things in fiction doesn’t stress me–but it does mean I’ll be rethinking a few things.

There. That’s as close to a personal post as you get on this blog. (Oh, you thought you were getting personal posts before? Heh. No you weren’t.)

Upcoming: A review of Lennon’s Castle at the B&N Review. Also doing an intro for the next collected volume of Wastelands, out in time for Comic Con, an intro to Paul Jessup’s debut collection, and an intro to a Japanese edition of the early works of P&J’s Chris Reilly.

Er, and, no disrespect, but sometimes a silly vulture tale is just a silly vulture tale. Don’t be goin’ and puttin’ any weight on my silly litul vulture tale!