Right now I am absolutely demotivated to work on Egypt 2.0. Oddly, too, since it's right at the really fun scenes where I get to describe amazing ancient-culture pageantry and feasting and naked people dancing and also some pretty great action scenes, too. But I just want to barf all over my laptop when I think about writing it all.
It's simply not what I want to be working on right now. But guess what? THIS IS WHAT IT'S LIKE TO WRITE FOR A LIVING. You do the work you need to do and you get it done and turned in and you do your best and you shut up and write. Life isn't full of floating kittens wearing dark-rimmed glasses and riding fixies. Shit, Libbie. Stop whining and work. (Really, though, I wonder if this would be easier to get through if I was getting paid for writing this infernal book. God, I need money in the worst kind of way.)
Wait...here's the fix. I want to be known for my pretty prose and daring insights into the human condition (or something like that.) I want to be known for literary fiction. It's what I most love to read, after all, and what I enjoy writing the most. And what people praise me for the most when they read my writing. And the Egyptian books are good and fun and well crafted but they are commercial, not lit. So here's how I solve this problem: I'll publish my historical fiction under a different name.
Problem solved. Now my ass is getting to work on those fun, commercial, kooky Egyptian party scenes.
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