I've been wandering around without direction (sometimes literally) feeling really lost. I haven't been doing much writing besides an accidental drabble that may end up being another damn novel. And I've been feeling shiftless and purposeless and low energy and sort of like a blot upon the face of the earth. I also feel like a self-indulgent loser--
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I'm still quite surprised that I wrote a novel four times last year and I keep rewriting one short piece and it will eventually work and I've written a few new short pieces and part of a second novel. It's not like I've done nothing. But because I haven't found homes for any of the work I feel like I'm failing. But diligence, yes. And I'm really looking forward to the daily rigor of writing again. One big project. I'm definitely a novelist. Short stories make me feel weird and wistful.
It's been really wonderful to tinker away over here while you work away over there. Thank you. ♥
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Wanna giant cupcake?
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*love for the rest*
And did you get a chance to check out the Readercon site? You should come for the day with me. :)
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Mercury will no longer be in retrograde starting the 30th, if you're interested. If my wanderlust and general discontent/antsy-ness ceases suddenly on the 30th, I may decide to believe this...
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