January 15th, 2015


Current projects, January 2015.

Every month I make a post to tell folks what I'm working on, a) because it seems polite, b) because it keeps me accountable, if only to myself, and c) so you will understand why I do not have a social life. This is the January 2015 post, making it the first post of the new year. Hooray! Everything is awesome.

To quote myself, being too harried to say something new: "These posts are labeled with the month and year, in case somebody eventually gets the bizarre urge to timeline my work cycles (it'll probably be me). Behold the proof that I don't actually sleep; I just whimper and keep writing."

Please note that all books currently in print are off the list, as are those that have been turned in but not yet printed (Pocket Apocalypse, Chimera, A Red-Rose Chain). Chaos Choreography and Rewind are off the list because they're finished and in revisions with the Machete Squad. The cut-tag is here to stay, because no matter what I do, it seems like this list just keeps on getting longer. But that's okay, because at least it means I'm never actively bored. I have horror movies and terrible things from the swamp to keep me company.

Not everything on this list has been sold. I will not discuss the sale status of anything which has not been publicly announced. If you can't remember whether I've announced something, check the relevant tag, or go to my website, at www.seananmcguire.com. Please do not ask why project X is no longer on the list. I will not answer you.

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What a difference a year makes...

Today is January 15th, 2015. My last day of full-time employment for someone other than myself was January 15th, 2014. The last time I set an alarm for anything other than a trip to the airport or a convention was a year ago.

A year ago today, I started sleeping.

It's sort of remarkable: I hadn't realized how much of myself I had sold for health insurance and a desk with my name tacked to the wall next to it until I started to sleep again, and started to wake up. Because seriously, that's what sleep allowed me to do. I slept ten, eleven, twelve hours a night, with two-hour naps every day, for three weeks. Not out of depression; out of the sheer joy of sleeping, the restorative delight of starting to feel like myself again. The sleeping tapered off. These days, I go to bed at 11:00, go to sleep at 11:30 (slow sleep insomnia), and wake up between 7:00 and 7:30. Naps are rare.

I have had two major illnesses in the past year, versus ten to fifteen a year for the last several. One was a twenty-four hour stomach bug that could have hit anyone, regardless of how rested they were; the other was a cold brought home by my housemate and incubated on my flight to London. I have slept through the night almost every night. I have become happier, more stable, and more productive.

(The more productive has actually been a problem, as I'm flooding my poor proofreaders with material. I was always fast. Now I'm working at more what I consider my "normal" speed, and it's terrifying.)

A lot of people asked how I was going to stave off boredom. The answer was, and remains, that I will let them know when I actually get bored.

It hasn't happened yet.