Sort Of Back At It

Just writing when I can, which isn't much and I'm quite frustrated by it all.  Almost at 200 manuscript pages for the Vicky book (these are much shorter than what you think of as an actual page) and about at the halfway point I feel, which is matching up with my estimates finally.

Story-wise, I'm happy with how everything is shaping up and excited for the back half especially, it's just...it's hard to give my 100% to something I care so much about like the MancyVerse when my father is...not good.  It's a real pain in the ass and a problem I've always had with my writing.  I want to produce the best piece of fiction I can, so...I can only work on it when my mind is focused on the task and not all the bullshit floating about.  I've often thought jealously on the other writers that can pump out a 300 page book every 2 months like clockwork...

So I've also been trying to stay busy while distracted.  Entering old edits into the upcoming 2021 editions (typo fixes mostly, few continuity errors, Dread Fortress got some work done trimming a pointless paragraph here or there but probably not nearly as much as the people that bitch about it want), doing background world-building, etc.  Know the names of all the other Maximi you haven't met yet, that's something, right?  Came up with about a billion Welfs...only another billion to go to fill out the whole family tree!

I've even been faffing about with another standalone novel that I don't really care about at all so I can just write whatever and it's kind of therapeutic to not obsess over a book like I usually do.  It's called "Immersion:  A Techno-Zombie Fairytale of True Love Triumphant".   Heh.  Wouldn't be a Raley title if you could say it in under five seconds!  So...yeah, no idea if I'll ever publish it, but keeping busy! 

As for my father...I don't know for sure, but I know whatever is for sure, it's not good.  He's still extremely sick, I don't doubt that, but he's also the type of person that enjoys being sick and the sympathy it can bring, so you're never quite sure if he's as bad as he plays it sometimes.  Sure, he can't breathe and he looks horrible, but when he got up from the couch and grabbed his chest for a second, was that real or just him being a jackass?

Maybe both.

He either has trouble understanding what the doctor tells him, puts up the reality distortion field, or just plain lies about what they've told him.  Lying is kind of his go-to move for his whole life.  Lying and grabbing a bottle.  Whatever they did tell him though, he spent a couple days last week pricing cremation rates, so...under all the theater, I do think he's on the way out and he knows it.  Some days.  Other days he convinces himself he's fine and works in the yard for eight hours.  Then he's in bed for the next three almost choking the death...rinse and repeat for the last month.  

The symptoms don't lie I suppose, neither do the drugs they're treating him with, and they all point towards late stage heart failure.  Still waiting on a procedure room to see if shocking his heart out of Afib might help some, but even then...I don't think they fix this one, we're just talking months or years until it's over.

Again.

That's what I keep thinking:  my poor mother having to go through this again.  

Hasn't even been a year yet since my grandfather.

Of course, having now been through this macabre situation before, I do have practice and I do know what to expect and I am handling it much better than the first run.

So...writing is getting done, just slower and more scattershot than I hoped.  Thank you for understanding...again.