What I do like

Was cranky in my last post. Could you tell?

I’m currently sitting in front of a hockey game, in overtime, but don’t be impressed. I’m mostly waiting for it to be done so I can write a bit more before bed.

(should be sung to the tune of that song from Fiddler on the Roof)

That’s what I’ve been doing. I’m come around on revision; I totally love it now. Sorta. All right, it’s not as sexy as brand! new! words! but it’s easier, in a way, to sink into —



and get back into something that you left the day before.

Here’s the problem I’m having. (You can decide for yourself if it’s a problem.) I’m busy trying to get Book I–which I think I retitled this weekend, and it gave me a boost of energy–ready for agents. But I so so so want to work on Book II–which I think is finally titled. Maybe.

[Calling them Book I and Book II makes it seem like they are part of a series, but they are not. Or if they are, they’re both first books in a series.]

I keep having ideas for the book I’m not working on. I’m jotting them down, but that energy makes me want to spend time on the book that’s creating it.

But I did have a good day working on Book I. REVISIONS! (I really do hear this in my head to that music. If I were a good book, la-da-da-di-di-di.)

Maybe a little shut in, why do you ask?

Actually, Saturday night Greg and I had dinner with our neighbor, Jen. She made her husband stay home with the kids and bestfrienddogCHLOE! and all their big, scary cats and we went out for yummy pasta. Don’t feel bad for him, though. Apparently he was out the night before and had enough to drink to last him a good while. This may be the first time in my life I’ve had neighbors I wanted to hang out with. I think. I’ve only had real neighbors for going-on-nine years. Only met this couple because of their puppy. Get a puppy, meet your neighbors.

OK, there’s one good solid hour left in my waking weekend. One more chapter before bed, what do you say?

By Published On: November 15, 2010Categories: Black Hour, Life, The Day I Died, Writing, Writing life