I meant COOK MORE.
I meant COOK MORE and also WRITE THE HELL OUT OF MY NOVEL.
I have been getting up at 4 am, 6 days a week, and writing for 8 – 10 hours, and then I can’t look at screens anymore. I read books on paper. I make out with my cat. I go to Ren Fairs. Most of all I COOK THINGS because I decided I like to cook things. (Lie) (I hate to cook things) (I deeply like to EAT THINGS, though, so I am learning to cook all the things I like at restaurants)
AND THEN I WRITE. Because THE NOVEL? It is GOING. It is going like a fast and naughty pony. And when that pony goes, you have to ride it, Oh my Best Beloveds, And kick it and holler and spur it on and extend bad metaphors in blog posts beyond all neighing reason. BECAUSE. I know from long experience that any second this pony will stop dead and I will be hurled over his head to smash face first into the loamy earth, and I shall bite the earth, weep, froth, kick, and declare that I do not remember how to write a novel. It will be a bad few weeks of terrible mental illness and frustration.
But NOW right now THIS NOW HAPPENING NOW, oh my best beloveds? THE PONY IS GO.
Here is the only screen related thing I am doing when not writing:
Posting things to my pinterest board about cooking, called ATE IT WITH MY MOUTH.
Posting things to my pinterest board about the novel, called NOBODY’S NOTHING.