Sleep is for wimps

2YyM2I awoke at 5am last night, and my mind decided that it didn’t want to go back to sleep. Oh no, the irritating sod decided that it wanted to think about time, death and oblivion. I tried to drag it away to thoughts of dancing ladies, semi-clad in diaphanous nightgowns, but my mind was having none of that and had an aged knight in rusty armour slay them all bloodily and muddily with a huge axe.
The upshot of this is that when time finally did haul it’s slow and sorry arse around to the hour of getting up, I was exhausted and – ta-da! – fell asleep.

I hate when that happens. It means that I’ve lost a morning which I had promised to devote to writing, and I can scarce afford that at the moment, given the number of project balls that I am currently juggling:

  • Firstly, here I am listening to the first chapter of the ‘Moth Girl’ audiobook, which is stupendously good. The reader has achieved a slightly off-kilter tone to his delivery which perfectly matches the tale. It will eventually be available for download on Bandcamp.
  • Secondly, I continue to promote ‘Soul of the Universe’, which to my delight has been extremely well received.
  • Thirdly, I have a shipful of pirate tales waiting for me to edit them into the next anthology, now tentatively entitled ‘Talking The Plank’.
  • Fourthly, the ever-patient ‘1322’ (which really needs a different title lest it be mistook for a history book – ‘The Raven’s Wing’ being the current favourite) sits back and awaits my attention.
  • Fifthly, I continue to tend my secret project as it simmers away. You may or may not get to hear about this towards the end of the year.
  • Oh, and sixthly, I ought to submit ‘Fog’ once more to a few publishers. Self-publishing is enormous fun, but a professional publisher could give a book far more of a push than I alone ever can. Although I love my readers dearly, bless you, of all my works ‘Fog’ at least deserves a wider audience.

So you see, I don’t have time to sleep. Sleep is for wimps. I must stop being a wimp.

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About wombat37

A Yorkshireman in the green hills of Lancashire, UK Not a real wombat, obviously, or typing would become an issue. I do have short legs and a hairy nose, however. Oh, & a distinctive smell.

Posted on March 20, 2014, in Anthology, Audiobook, Fog, moth girl, Soul of the Universe, Writing, Writings. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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