Meanderings of a Sleep-Deprived Writer
I miss my blog.
For real. If I were to have blogged regularly at all in the last... I don't know how how long, it probably would have included some of the following:
-The crazy interesting stuff I've been studying for my books.
-How writing blows my ever-living mind. Probably every other day, I think to myself "Holy crap, that's amazing!"
-My kids are all growing and doing neat things.
-My husband and his ten irons in the fire... He claims he would stop working so hard if I'd just make some money as an author, but I don't believe him. I do know that part of it is that we have a passive-aggressive competition to see who can work the longest with the least amount of sleep.
-Williston is this crazy fun and interesting place to live.
-Crap keeps knocking on our door and wanting to stay awhile.
-How I'd like to sit down. Read a book. Stare out of a window. Sew something. Expand my hobby base.
-How the most important thing I've learned in this very LONG process of editing/writing is how much TIME people waste. How TIME is the most precious commodity people have. And they WASTE it. And how that makes me more upset than probably anything else the most often.
I. Need. More.Time.
There is a serious lack of sleep around this house already that I can't possibly squeeze in one more project, brain waves for a clever blog post, or playgroups and church activities. By lack of sleep, think 4-6 hour nights every night, usually 6 nights a week. It's been like this for several months now. Believe it or not, I'm actually used to the routine of no sleep. I never thought I'd say that.
Trying to bring my first book to publication is kind of like pregnancy. I can't manage much more than keeping people alive. I'm tired. I'm on and off my writer's high. One minute I think I'm like C.S. Lewis or Mark Twain and the next minute I'm like that piece of trash novelist that nobody will ever want to read. It's a brutal fight every day. But I'm persevering. The only reason I push through is because I made a promise that I would get this thing off the ground by the end of the year. I don't break promises, ya'll. Unless I forget. That's happened. Otherwise, I'm on it like Blue Bonnet. And for months now, I have definitely been on it. And it's looking good. I think. I hope. My gosh, for my own health, I MUST get my first book published so I can stop this madwoman writing spree. I'm pretty sure I've knocked a couple years off my life.
Excuse me while I go knock off a few more.
For real. If I were to have blogged regularly at all in the last... I don't know how how long, it probably would have included some of the following:
-The crazy interesting stuff I've been studying for my books.
-How writing blows my ever-living mind. Probably every other day, I think to myself "Holy crap, that's amazing!"
-My kids are all growing and doing neat things.
-My husband and his ten irons in the fire... He claims he would stop working so hard if I'd just make some money as an author, but I don't believe him. I do know that part of it is that we have a passive-aggressive competition to see who can work the longest with the least amount of sleep.
-Williston is this crazy fun and interesting place to live.
-Crap keeps knocking on our door and wanting to stay awhile.
-How I'd like to sit down. Read a book. Stare out of a window. Sew something. Expand my hobby base.
-How the most important thing I've learned in this very LONG process of editing/writing is how much TIME people waste. How TIME is the most precious commodity people have. And they WASTE it. And how that makes me more upset than probably anything else the most often.
I. Need. More.Time.
There is a serious lack of sleep around this house already that I can't possibly squeeze in one more project, brain waves for a clever blog post, or playgroups and church activities. By lack of sleep, think 4-6 hour nights every night, usually 6 nights a week. It's been like this for several months now. Believe it or not, I'm actually used to the routine of no sleep. I never thought I'd say that.
Trying to bring my first book to publication is kind of like pregnancy. I can't manage much more than keeping people alive. I'm tired. I'm on and off my writer's high. One minute I think I'm like C.S. Lewis or Mark Twain and the next minute I'm like that piece of trash novelist that nobody will ever want to read. It's a brutal fight every day. But I'm persevering. The only reason I push through is because I made a promise that I would get this thing off the ground by the end of the year. I don't break promises, ya'll. Unless I forget. That's happened. Otherwise, I'm on it like Blue Bonnet. And for months now, I have definitely been on it. And it's looking good. I think. I hope. My gosh, for my own health, I MUST get my first book published so I can stop this madwoman writing spree. I'm pretty sure I've knocked a couple years off my life.
Excuse me while I go knock off a few more.
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