Pain Hurts

It's half-past nine and so far I'm feeling like...

[Shown here: A simplified humanoid figure oscillating rapidly left and right. It is captioned, "I have done nothing productive all day"]

Which is a lie. I have finished up half a chapter of ADT, I've been working on some fun fiction this morning. And I'm reaching for motivation to start submitting books at people again, but it's the kind of work that makes my bones feel heavy and uuuuuurgh.

If I had an agent, they could take my books and do all the other things I find incredibly laborious to do.

Worst is the advice I get about summaries and synopses. For both of them, it's "Just sell your story." Which drives me nuts.

I might rant about Agent-Hunting this week. It's exactly the kind of trial that can have me going off for reams of words.

Meanwhile, I get on with the expectations of my audience.

I've been going on drips and dribbles with ADT these last two days. Mostly because the lure of three firkin fanfics are calling me with their siren song. I'm aiming to use my ankle icing time to add a few sentences into one work or another. I successfully added a sentence to three fics so this break will focus on the book first, and then drift off to wherever the muse drags me.

So far, so good.

The bread's done, the story's

I have a loaf in the incubator, Wilson warming up for the next batch of bread, and I've learned that LibGen, a database of stolen works used to train AI, contains my book The Amity Incident.

Fun.

Alas, the information of what to do seems to be behind a paywall and I have no idea what to do about it. Some searching has dug up A lead, but I'm not entirely certain it's the right one.

I've done a few paragraphs in