Not a good day today, I'm sorry to say. I suspect this will be a rather short blog as I'm utterly wiped out in terms of energy. So, hey, there's always a silver lining for my reader then ...
Most of my day has been spent ringing PPP, ringing the hospital and ringing the Surrey Park Clinic. Over and over and over again. All I want is for someone - anyone, please! - to give me a code for a D&C operation, as PPP won't speak to me, or even acknowledge my presence without it. It was actually so incredibly stressful that at one point I couldn't stop shaking, so lay down on the bed and cried for a while. I still feel incredibly tearful now, as it's late afternoon and nothing's been resolved. I desperately, desperately want it to be sorted out by tomorrow as I can't bear the thought of starting the working week next week, knowing the op is on Thursday and I'm still struggling with the admin side of it all. I think that, if I don't hear anything from anyone today that's remotely helpful, I'm going to drive to the Clinic tomorrow and just sit there sobbing until someone gives me the fucking code. I mean, for God's sake, how hard can it be?? Give me the fucking code, for crying out loud!!!! I'm not even worried about whether it will or won't be what they end up doing to me next week - I just want the code so it goes on PPP's paperwork and is therefore an option I can have. I don't know why everyone is making it so bloody difficult. Fuckers, all of them. Even the nice ones.
Not only that, but I am utterly and completely arsed off with waiting, waiting, waiting. I'm waiting for publishers to reject The Gifting so I can get on with finding my own small publishers, selling my usual 50 or so copies and then having done with it. (Though actually I've already sent a partial MS out to a couple of small fantasy/gay publishers as I really don't see why I have to sit around doing nothing with what I know is a damn good book ...). I'm waiting for my agent to acknowledge receipt of my email with The Bones of Summer in it. I really don't want to have to contact him via Facebook again simply in order to get a response. I understand quite well that I'm barely in the category of pond life - people don't have to keep rubbing that fact in ... Plus I'm waiting for both him and PD Publishing to acknowledge receipt of my email of a couple of weeks ago telling them I was going into hospital. And I'm sorry but if I get an email from someone I know telling me they're going into hospital, then I do acknowledge it and ask after them - it seems the least I can do ... I do know everyone's too busy these days to communicate, but surely it's not too much to expect? Hell, more fool me then. I'm fed up with waiting - it's crap. Such a bloody, bloody waste of time and spirit.
Honestly I hate the writing business. It's horrible, horrible, horrible. Sometimes I wish I'd never bothered to put pen to paper for that long-ago first novel after all. Fuck it eh. It's been a bad writing week too. I've only managed a few hundred words of Hallsfoot's Battle today and I can't get my head round what I'm supposed to be doing. Neither can I find the energy to care.
Sorry, but I can't be bothered with Writerly Facts - I'm too arsed off to think about them. And I'm too arsed off with finding today's nice things too. I can't think of any. Sigh.
Anne's Nearly Pondlife Website