Wednesday, September 7, 2011

I asked myself, do you really want to post tonight? Tomorrow would be so much easier, but then by tomorrow, the next day would so much easier, etc.
yeah, I can see where that is going.
Writing every day takes a certain type of bravery, that maybe I don’t have. It takes admitting that if you skip a day, you have to face that problem, because otherwise it just gets bigger and bigger, and soon a whole week has gone by without posting, then a few more days, then a month.
Very brave, people who conquer that fear of "I haven't written anything lately oh well I’ll just get to it." My type of bravery is more like hiding under the bed, trying not to pee myself. Because I had to really force myself to admit that I haven't posted in a while. denial is so easy.
I haven't written much, but at least I make myself think of plot while working.
I no longer have the old boring, "hiding from the old people staring at vending machines looking for dirty pictures" job. The vending machine part was because dean koontz mentions in one book that there are no laws against subliminal advertising, and that such pictures are in ads, like found on a vending machine. I'm a sucker, what can I say. I also have a dirty mind, so the answer to the question, was there dirty images, will remain unanswered. By me, anyway.
I now have a "stand outside and stare off into space" job, which is great in summer, but I may try for something a bit better, preferably before winter. Especially as it is a "as needed" job, and it's not needed very much. I'm grateful for the jobs, grateful to be hired, even when I hate them so much I’m more grateful when they fire me. (supervisor: come into my office. This is hard to say, but. Me: thank you! I hate you too!! Goodbye!!! just kidding)
see, I thought I had nothing to post, almost went to bed, and now, I have a waste of space post about work. Sigh. I said I would finish the book, slave to love, (as it's now called) and that it would be my birthday gift to myself. Oops. Soon, I’ll be sending it off to harlequin. I think. I hope. That takes bravery, the type of "go out of the cave and see if the dragon is there. If you return a headless corpse, the rest of us will know." And really, of all the job apps and interviews, when you think of it, writing is very behind the scenes, send it off without being involved. Only you are invovled, because you have worked so hard on the novel, so close, that you don't see the flaws. Try it. Write the word flaw on your hand (not in permanent ink, just a thought) and hold it up to your nose. Kind of hurts to focus, kind of hard to read? Yeah, that's a book. Right there. so. Deep breath. Send it off anyway. Soon. Because there is no dragon out there. Scary editors, painful rejections, etc. yes. But no dragons, nothing of physical harm to sending off a book.

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