Lots has been going on in the world, from my point of view.
For one thing, tomorrow starts my new writing regimen.
On Saturdays and Sundays, I dunno. Maybe....three hours and 7,500 words.
I have got to get this crap done.
The trouble is, I have a nasty habit of sitting on my bum and not doing anything. Seriously. If a project is due at 12, I'll end up doing it at 11:30. Now, yes, I'll usually do a decent job, but I can't imagine that it reflects very well on my personality.
Nor does, really, the manuscript that I have been working on for years and years.
I'm not kidding on this one. The first little inkling of my idea came when I was 14, and I'm nearing 21*.
I owe it to myself, to cG, and to all my other friends (and family as well, I suppose, although I think this particular novel would not quite be up their alley, it's incredibly dark).
I'm tired of dragging my feet, and I'm tired of monkeying around.
One of my major problems, I think, is not wanting to let my little baby bird go.
Even if that baby bird does happen to have feathers made out of money.
Oooh, now I want a pet moneybird.
Perhaps PHZ can be my moneybird.
5k or 2 hours on weekdays.
(*)A funny mental image just popped into my head. Me, sitting at a bar with a drink, staring at my finished book and asking it "Why'd you take so damn long?!"