I’m truly in hell. Jaid is now in Xibalba, but that’s not what I mean. For the first time I can remember, I *dread* working on a project. I mean, I’d rather do anything at all. Clean toilets. Find the carpet in the monsters’ playroom. Of course, check e-mail, loops, blogs… ANYTHING. Just don’t make me work on the next section!
Seriously, I’ve never faced such reluctance. Once I begin and I get into the story, I love it. The plot is incredibly complex, the characters are vast and complicated, the mythology is cool. But UGH, getting there, making myself BEGIN, every single day, is the hardest battle I’ve ever faced. Indeed, I do believe this is the hardest revision I’ve ever done. Harder than murdering Shannari and beginning Rose over for the third and final complete rewrite from page one. Harder than throwing out the initial plot for Beautiful Death and streamlining a few characters that I still miss (Phillip).
Needless to say, getting up Dark & Early — knowing I have to work on this project — has been difficult. I did make it this morning. Thankfully, I had started the current scene last night, briefly, so it wasn’t all out dread I felt. It took hard, solid work, but I finally finished one section. ONE. At this rate, it’ll take me every single precious free moment for the rest of the month to finish this revision!
I refuse to give up, though. Even if I can only manage one step up that steep, unforgiving Mountain, I’ll take it and count the day a victory.
Snippet: Upon arriving in Xibalba, Jaid has a little talk with One Death, the head demon.
“When someone is sacrificed with the White Dagger, what do you do with the heart?”
“What an amusing question.” Louder, the scratchy voice came from the right. Fighting her instincts that demanded she tear off screaming in the opposite direction, she huddled low in the water. “Personally, I prefer to eat it.”
Her hopes plummeted. If she couldn’t retrieve Wrack’s heart and free him from the Xibalban demons, then Ruin would forever be trapped. His brother would always be the chain that prevented him from ending the demons’ plans.
The demon continued casually, as though he were merely musing aloud. “Some of my brethren adore the smell of roasting meat and so burn the offering.”
“But what about your greatest enemies? What do you do to honor them?”
The demon cackled. Finally, she realized why the voice distressed her so much. It sounded like millions of armored beetles clacking their bristled legs together. Her skin crawled, and it was all she could do not to swat at her body to brush invisible bugs away.
“No great honored ones come here. They die in battle and go directly to rest in the shade of the Great Ceiba or hang themselves and Ixtab, Rope Woman, shines upon them as they walk the White Road. Only the dishonorable travail in the bowels of Xibalba, or the stupid, or unlucky. Which are you?”
“All the above,” she muttered.