Has this been a boring week, or what? Once I got done with the requested materials for the agent, I sort of got lost. I mean, I felt lost. I realized once I stopped going at a fast clip for seven days a week, once it was temporarily over, I sort of went flat. Now what? I tried
doing research for the next book in the series and ran into information constipation. Maybe I’m supposed to take a breather. If I am, I need to get out of here to do that. I suddenly realized I’ve been working, sleeping and eating in the same small room for over a year. See, the bad thing about being a workaholic is that your friends move on without you. They’re all off enjoying beautiful Sunday afternoons while you’re just looking up from whatever you’ve kept yourself occupied with, and wondering where everyone else has gone.
Doesn’t it just figure, that as soon as we got the pool table recovered, that all my pool buddies decided to move on? Good grief. I don’t even look anymore when little kids are playing on it. My reputation is finished. Some hussler I am. I’m not even sure I could hit a ball anymore. Not only that, but I haven’t even had the urge to play. Something must be the matter with me. It’s all Confidante’s fault. If he hadn’t gone to days, I’d still be trying to beat the socks off him.
There’s no point in even hanging out in the lobby at night anymore. People seem to be in a trance. Nothing’s breaking down. No one’s started a fire lately making popcorn in the microwave. It’ boring. I tell you, the place has gone to the dogs. Literally. They’ve taken over the hotel. There’s one bulldog here that looks just like its owner. I guess I should say, its owner looks like her dog.
I realized what I HAVE been doing is taking care of all the stuff I’ve let slide while I was so engrossed in getting the final draft of the manuscript done in time for the conference. You know, getting the car serviced, hunting for tires, flu shots, etc. Ordinary, but necessary stuff like that. I may have to put off a European excursion for awhile, although that’s what I’d really like to being doing. I’ve got a book waiting for me to write in Ireland, and a few
others here and there. They’ll have to be on hold for a little longer.
I didn’t want y’all to think I’d fallen off the face of the earth this week. I just had to channel my steam elsewhere for awhile. I’d be remiss if I didn’t channel some steam towards kudos for author and fellow member of James River Writers, David L. Robbins whose screenplay for the film The Rock in the Sun, in conjunction with director Lucas Krost and producer Bennett Fidlow, won the Virginia Film Office screen writing award.
doing research for the next book in the series and ran into information constipation. Maybe I’m supposed to take a breather. If I am, I need to get out of here to do that. I suddenly realized I’ve been working, sleeping and eating in the same small room for over a year. See, the bad thing about being a workaholic is that your friends move on without you. They’re all off enjoying beautiful Sunday afternoons while you’re just looking up from whatever you’ve kept yourself occupied with, and wondering where everyone else has gone.
Doesn’t it just figure, that as soon as we got the pool table recovered, that all my pool buddies decided to move on? Good grief. I don’t even look anymore when little kids are playing on it. My reputation is finished. Some hussler I am. I’m not even sure I could hit a ball anymore. Not only that, but I haven’t even had the urge to play. Something must be the matter with me. It’s all Confidante’s fault. If he hadn’t gone to days, I’d still be trying to beat the socks off him.
There’s no point in even hanging out in the lobby at night anymore. People seem to be in a trance. Nothing’s breaking down. No one’s started a fire lately making popcorn in the microwave. It’ boring. I tell you, the place has gone to the dogs. Literally. They’ve taken over the hotel. There’s one bulldog here that looks just like its owner. I guess I should say, its owner looks like her dog.
I realized what I HAVE been doing is taking care of all the stuff I’ve let slide while I was so engrossed in getting the final draft of the manuscript done in time for the conference. You know, getting the car serviced, hunting for tires, flu shots, etc. Ordinary, but necessary stuff like that. I may have to put off a European excursion for awhile, although that’s what I’d really like to being doing. I’ve got a book waiting for me to write in Ireland, and a few
others here and there. They’ll have to be on hold for a little longer.
I didn’t want y’all to think I’d fallen off the face of the earth this week. I just had to channel my steam elsewhere for awhile. I’d be remiss if I didn’t channel some steam towards kudos for author and fellow member of James River Writers, David L. Robbins whose screenplay for the film The Rock in the Sun, in conjunction with director Lucas Krost and producer Bennett Fidlow, won the Virginia Film Office screen writing award.