I can't believe how far behind I am in restocking the apothecary for the holidays. I'm so behind! I've made stuff, just not a lot, not like I have in the past, not like I know I can. I just feel so beat up by this book. I mean, as much as I've cut out I can start a new book with, yet there's still so much left to write! Basically I want to open up possibilities with this new book, new ways to look at the perfume building process, different ideas for using scent (cooking, for example), and in the process of bringing all this in, I have over thought it, tried to include way too much information. If anyone thinks for a second that writing a book, even a poorly written book, is easy work, they're deluded. Writing for an audience is a struggle -- it's mentally and emotionally exhausting, like having an existential crisis of the 'who do I think I am' variety, while diapering a baby octopus with your ears.
All the goods are here to stock up the apothecary -- the yums for the bath fizzies, a gallon of oil for the new perfume anointing oils, loads of stuff for new soaps -- the only thing missing is the decision to make them all. Once I've written a few hundred words, checked off notes, drunk a pot or two of tea, done some research, perused a book or two, stared out of the window in a daze, and gotten up 30 times to work the kinks out of my back, the rest of the day is shot -- even if it's only 11 AM when I peel my bum off the computer chair to get to the domestic chores. I'll get my groove back, I just hope it's before the holidays so I can make a little stocking stuffer money.
I am getting closer to the end of the writing of the book, though. I resist the urge daily to add more to it. However, when the end of the book does arrive, the editing begins, and then the page numbering, then the indexing, so the next few days (weeks?) will be me hanging with the octopus.