Giving Up Writing.

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Or: Maybe Not.

So I decided last night that I was done. After reading so many good books lately while occasionally glancing at my growing pile of pathetic, feeble - and entirely unfinished - attempts at writing, I just gave up.

"Fuck writing," I said. "I'm all done. I'll just read from now on. And edit. And maybe review some stuff."

As I left the house at 6 AM this morning, I was resigned to just driving. No more plotting on the commute. No more conversations with my characters during the inevitable stop 'n' go near Trinity Lane. No more feeding Dorothy the Muse with my new favorite song while going 80 in the slow lane. Just no more.

Dorothy apparently took offense at this decision and smacked me upside the head continuously the whole way to work with all kinds of things I've been stonewalled on for the past several weeks. Figures.

I'm not sure what I'm going to do with it yet. I may just ignore it and go ahead with the plan to take up something that involves less blood-letting. Like boxing, maybe....

But damned if Dorothy didn't make Caleb all freakin' interesting...

Crap. Crap on a stick, in fact.

.

Comments

Anonymous said…
You may not be able to tell, but I'm trying not to snicker hysterically and am failing miserably. *ggg* Sorry Bethanie, looks like your stuck with the gig.
11:15
Bethanie said…
Apparently so -- I gave in and started on this new story and it's all coming together in the most annoyingly excellent way. Dammit! ;-D
09:08
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