I'm composing. I'm drafting. I'm writing.
He's how it works: I put my ass in a chair and I write.
There.
Yes, there are lots of other distractions. No, I'm not responding to them.
Day job -- it's a good day job so there's that -- then gym, then a little household clearance, then library and desk.
I'm fixing old work. I'll looking at structure and twists and character development and changing those parts that have never quite worked.
There's a novel in the folder but through the holiday: short stories.
Watch out. The body count is climbing.
The rum bottle is nervous it might be next.
Who can say?
2 comments:
Eggnog and rum! Excellent. 'Tis the season!
My day is practically yours, but mixed around a bit: writing, gym, cleaning...and writing again (since it *is* my day job).
I think I'm at 50 bodies now. No one should live in those little towns I write about.
Good luck with the revising!
Nothing more dangerous than a sleepy little town with azaleas around the flag pole outside city hall!
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