The nice thing about writing for yourself, no agent or editor nagging you, is that you can go at your own speed, stop and write something else (like the flash fiction for Feb.) or take off the day without guilt.
I was too tired the day after the Golden Globes (all those parties) and the Inauguration took up a whole day and the next day I was too tired (all those balls).
With one thing and another I haven’t written more of the story I posted about below. But tomorrow I’m going to give it a try again. In fact I’m actually looking forward to it. I think now I’ll do stories about the same characters I’m introducing in this first story. Only a thought.
The back page of the NYTBR has an essay today about book promotion. It’s about making movie trailers or something jazzy and different about books for the Internet. The thrust of this essay seems to be that if you don’t do that you might as well flush your book down the toilet.
And I thought book tours were nightmares. I mean, part of wanting to be a writer for me was that I could be alone. But now I’d have to make a movie and be with gaffers and grips.
I guess this is the wave of the future (the future is now) and nothing will stop it. For some this may be fun and exciting. For me the excitement is the act of putting my fingers on the keys and … I almost forgot … shutting the door.