This is my crankah-face. Next to my happeh face.
Not that I'm cranky, I'm just making it because I just sorta realized I am going to have to lock down my talky mouth about writing this book, just like the last one, because that's apparently how I function: I am a totally batshit insane superstitious crazy pants who can't talk about books while she's writing them or she kills them dead.
Other than that, I'm shockingly happy and optimistic, and it might have had something to do with the election. I've given myself until Inauguration Day to bask. So. Seventy-five more days of unfettered awesome!
Yes, this is silly and naive. I know it is. But a few years ago, I realized I had lost my capacity to daydream silly, wonderful, awesome futures for myself. That I was always, always, always preparing myself for disappointment. And at some point, I realized that was a very sucky way to live, and gave myself permission to daydream again.
What's life without some wild optimism now and again?
It's a life I don't want, is what it is.
So, I'm embracing my giddiness and enjoying myself for a while. For the next seventy-five days, I'm also going to be Totally Positive that I'm going to sell a novel next year, too, and, and, oh, all the other things that I daydream about that I don't necessarily want to tell the world, up to and including the alternate future where I get a classic car and start solving supernatural crimes with splash_the_cat, iuliamentis and dsudis on a weekly basis. It's fun.
January 21st is soon enough for a reality check.
Or the 22nd, anyway. I bet January 21st will be pretty kick-ass, actually.
Other than that, I'm shockingly happy and optimistic, and it might have had something to do with the election. I've given myself until Inauguration Day to bask. So. Seventy-five more days of unfettered awesome!
Yes, this is silly and naive. I know it is. But a few years ago, I realized I had lost my capacity to daydream silly, wonderful, awesome futures for myself. That I was always, always, always preparing myself for disappointment. And at some point, I realized that was a very sucky way to live, and gave myself permission to daydream again.
What's life without some wild optimism now and again?
It's a life I don't want, is what it is.
So, I'm embracing my giddiness and enjoying myself for a while. For the next seventy-five days, I'm also going to be Totally Positive that I'm going to sell a novel next year, too, and, and, oh, all the other things that I daydream about that I don't necessarily want to tell the world, up to and including the alternate future where I get a classic car and start solving supernatural crimes with splash_the_cat, iuliamentis and dsudis on a weekly basis. It's fun.
January 21st is soon enough for a reality check.
Or the 22nd, anyway. I bet January 21st will be pretty kick-ass, actually.