I haven't allowed myself to read anything in the fantasy genre since I started my NaNo novel. Trying to avoid any influences, but also trying to see if channeling all that energy I put into reading can go into my own writing. The answer is... I'm not sure. I tend to read mostly non-fiction when I am writing, partially for research, partially to keep the thoughts in my head separate. I haven't been tempted to pick up any current genre works as I have been wanting to pull the Iliad off the shelf. I have a copy of Virgil's Aeneid in the back seat of my car, along with Maurice's Strategikon.
I can excuse Iliad and Aeneid as poetry research on heroic hexameter, but Strategikon? It ties so neatly into the book I set aside writing during NaNo, I would suspect character hijinks. I guess even while I'm working on Godhunter, my mind is playing with my other story. Since I was worrying about the ending when I was only in the middle, I guess it makes sense. That or the guilt over neglecting my poetry is boiling up. I'm behind in submissions, and have a ream of poems ready to edit, but here I am plugging away at NaNo.
Since NaNoWriMo it is about halfway done, I'm trying real hard not to sabotage myself. I fear the ideas that seem to spawn while working on other projects will dissipate if not given proper attention. It's like when I'm about to fall asleep, or when I'm driving to work and think of a nifty line or stanza for a poem. It is so good, so crystal clear that I'm convinced I'll remember it in the morning, or long enough to write it down. After all, if something is that good, it should be etched into our brains, shouldn't it? Anyone?
Apparently I only have the capacity for one nifty idea at a time. Great poem line or Proper lane change. My choice. The only remedy I can come up with is to stop feeding the muse, to stop reading anything of interest until I finish what I'm working on. Then again, I seem to work better in a state of utter panic and over stimulation. Remnants of those college all nighters? Who knows. Maybe taking a break and reading something else would be good for me. As long as I don't turn around to see all my characters arrayed behind me with pitiful expressions and a 'woe is me' air. Or, to be on the safe side, I have an audiobook of the Iliad read by a poet. In Greek. Which I don't speak. But the rhythm is there, a long, beautifully flowing narrative, lurking just beneath the surface. Sometimes that's all that matters.