Marissa Lingen (mrissa) wrote,
Marissa Lingen
mrissa

Remind me again

Please remind me again: why do I write for adults?

I know, I know. Not all of my ideas are particularly YA. And the regular YA short story market is miniscule, and people have to ask you to write for anthologies, and so far they don't ask me. And I write enough that if I had spent all the time from Reprogramming and Thermionic Night and Sampo on YAs, I would have have at least five more YAs by now, which wouldn't help anybody in the slightest because the whole revision/submission/editing/publishing/whatever else process can only go so fast, and bouncing up and down threatening first readers/editors/agents/publishers with more books is not the way to make it go faster.

But I opened my file for the children's book I want to do next (in lieu of the fortuitous appearance of contractual obligations for other things), and it was so enticing and lovely and short and reasonable. (This is a chapter book, not a YA. Middle-grades. Etc. So even shorter than DBM.) And then I looked at Sampo, and I passed up 500 pages last week, and it's still not rough drafted yet, and I know I'll cut a bunch of that, but I'll add a bunch, too, and it's so big and grown-up and stuff, and I'm cranky anyway, due to still not having a voice for day four, and the cough is where timprov actually asked me last night if all my ribs are intact. And I'm not doing that again. The rib thing, I mean. I'm doing the cranky thing again, I bet, because these things happen, and I'm doing the writing for grown-ups thing again, for the above reasons and also because I'm stupid, but I refuse to break ribs coughing again, and that is that, and I just want everyone to notice that I have eaten a reasonable amount during this illness and not scraped by on a bare minimum and gotten shaky and weird-looking and perpetually cold, although I could do with a little lower body temperature just now, thanks verymuch.

Stupid brain making me write for grown-ups. Stupid body making me sick. Grouse grouse grouse.

Okay. I promise all of you a cheerful, Things That Make Me Happy Today entry before I go to bed tonight. It may be short, but the entirety of it will be happy things, and I will not cheat by making it into negatives of Things That Make Me Cranky like "not having this stupid cold" and "being able to sing songs" and "having this stupid book done." Okay? Okay.
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