I’ve been writing now for just over three years. Not straight of course, I do eat, sleep, read and occasionally go to a movie or a party. This is my fourth December as a writer… funny how that works, but I digress.
With all the inherently good things that happen in December, there’s one thing I hate. I hardly get any time to write. I know, I know, it’s my own damn fault. I can’t say no. In addition to the aforementioned distractions, there’s Christmas shopping, 100 Christmas cards to send out, traveling to see family, holiday open houses, etc., etc., etc. My head is spinning with all I WANT to do, and things I NEED to do. Problem is, I confuse the two.
I am madly obsessed with writing. I’d like to be in a cave somewhere (as long as it has wireless internet service), and not come out for weeks. (Do they have caves in Costa Rica?) If I could hook up an IV for nutrients, I wouldn’t even stop to eat.
My people need me. Danny King, protagonist of Midnight Street and also The King Family, Lily Frances and Danny’s extended family…. They’re lost without me! And don’t forget Carl, Danny’s dog. Have you ever seen a cuter fuzz ball? I’m all they’ve got! Any time I’m not writing, these people start whispering my name and talking to me in the shower. Then my anxiety level starts to climb… I either need better time management skills or I need a doctor.
Okay, full disclosure: Yesterday I got an email from an agent in New York. She gave me some very good advice on my novel, Midnight Street, only she kept calling it Who Is Lily White?. (She obviously isn’t reading my blog.) (That title was SO last week.) Anyway, her advice, albeit buried deep in a rejection letter, sent me on a tail spin. What these agents don’t realize is that with every rejection letter, I get more and more determined to prove to them that I will become a famous, published author.
Anyway, I’ve got work to do. Please excuse me while I hook up my IV.
Hasta luego. (Practicando mi español para Costa Rica.)