I am very close to finishing my next book. It is a new audience for me which makes it very difficult to finish. As long as I am in the writing phase I have my own little world and it is lovely to be a writer. The hard part is the potential rejection after the writing is done. Easy answer is, don’t finish.
Oh, just a minute, I think I will build a fire.
Much better. I love the crackle of life a fire brings. Where was I? The final mile. I like to keep going back to the beginning of the book and read for enjoyment. Is that odd? I enjoy my own writing like a person who loves their own cooking. They are very similar actually. My daughter will be home in half an hour. I should bake cookies like I did when she was young. She is in her last year of high school and soon I will have to mail her cookies to her, if I feel inclined to bake.
I took up figure skating at lunch time today. All I could muster was twenty minutes of circling the rink. A few hours earlier I became convinced that I have been sitting and writing for so long that my head was disconnecting from my body. I was afraid I would lose the ability to write with passion, so I set the stove timer, and headed out the door at noon, skates in hand, like a robot.
Turns out figure skating is not like riding a bike. I used to skate as a kid, so it wasn’t a complete red herring to strap on my skates today. I saw it more as a turning back of the clock. In reality it was a turning on of the cold shower of realization of just how far that clock has ticktocked.
Since I went skating I better not bake. I’ll write.
I wonder what Justin Bieber is doing these days? Maybe I’ll do a little research before I really get into the writing.
Is it just me, or is the stuff we do when the writing is tough absolutely hilarious?