Since someone asked in the comments of my previous post about the Boston Book Festival—here’s a link to audio recordings of a bunch of the sessions!
I’m only a day or two from finishing this revision (knock on wood) and I can’t wait to be normal again. Seriously, I’ve spent the last week eating nothing but cheese for dinner (you think I’m joking) and only doing enough dishes so that I can drink coffee and feed the cats. When I haven’t been at work, I’ve been on my couch trying to revise this novel. No time for petty things like dishes and vacuuming and making food.
It’s probably good I’m not a professional writer, I’d never put on clothes or get off the couch or eat a vegetable.
Anyway, I’m going to switch couch cushions and carry on. How are all my writer friends doing out there? Don’t forget to brush your teeth!
I’ve finally started revising this novel again, and I’ve gotten to the part where I had previously figured out this annoying complicated plot knot, but since I lost all of my notes and revisions when I was burgled I now have to figure it out again. My brain already hurts.
But in lucky things I have a hockey game to listen to as I work, because iiiiiit’s playoff time! GO SHARKS!
Sometimes the idea of writing makes me panic. Like, I have a visceral reaction and my heart rate goes up when I think about facing whatever my current project is. I’m afraid of ruining what isn’t there yet by getting my grubby writer hands on it. I’m afraid of not being good enough.
Sometimes opening up the word document is like ripping off a band-aid, something I just have to face and get over with. Here I go.