Blog

Two inches past busy.
That is how much writing and editing I like to have and how busy I like to be.

Who cares? It’s such a rude question.
And essential for the writer to ask. I can read over some of my own blog postings here on this very site (when enough time has passed and I’m no longer smitten with the very blogfullness of my blog), and think “who cares?” It’s usually when I’ve tried to be too clever, or I sound like I tried to be too clever. Or just gave way too much detail.

Procrastination turns me into a drifter in my own house. Wandering through the kitchen. Making tea. Sighing. Scratching that sweet spot behind my dog’s floppy ear. When all my interviews are completed and my research is done, it’s the actual writing of the thing that can leave me staring into space.