I'm still at my writer's cottage, except this morning I had to sign on to do some About.com work. I signed on around 10am and I'm still not done working and it's past 1:pm! For a while there I was really pissed that I ever decided to work, but now I'm happy that I did. Because I re-remembered how completely full of bullshit my job is, and how I really want to write. Stories. Books. For a living. I'd almost forgotten!
So now I'm hitting the grindstone again. I don't think I'll finish my 50k words in the next 4 days. I'm sure I won't. I only wrote 84 words yesterday. But I did stare at a blank page for a good five hours. I've lied to the NaNo-Show offs who are at 47K+. Friendly competition culminates in head-hanging shame. Or straight up lying. Oh well.
It's gray. And cold. And a perfect day for writing a bestseller.
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Writers are not just people who sit down and write. They hazard themselves. Every time you compose a book your composition of yourself is at stake. -E.L. Doctorow
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A Selected Quote from Virginia Woolf
"My own brain is to me the most unaccountable of machinery - always buzzing, humming, soaring roaring diving, and then buried in mud. And why? What's this passion for?"
1 comment:
Work makes me feel very similar. At least you're not in office. Keep writing, you'll make it!!
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