Sooo, after spending the majority of the day dealing with a migraine I finally get around to trying to write a blog post. However, my computer and my internet connection had something of a battle, and now I’m too ticked off at the world in general to write a flash fiction.
Therefore, I am going to talk about something completely different.
I’m just not sure what.
I could talk about how well my current
diet erm… eating lifestyle change is going. (The household is following the diet laid out in The 4-Hour Body)
The fact that I’m a little over two belt holes thinner.
Or talk about how my book sales have not been what I had hoped.
Then there’s this fantastic fantasy series I’m reading. (Elisabeth Wheatley sure knows how to weave a plot.)
Perhaps I could touch on the idea of sharing the first few pages of my husband’s portion of a steam punk graphic novel he’s working on (Words only so far. We need an artist.).
Then there’s the undead flash fictions he has been spitting out. (he’s writing circles around me, people!)
Of course there’s the business we’re still hoping to put together in a town very close to where we live. It’s still very hush-hush, but I’m excited! (We thought we almost had it last winter, then federal regulations changed and our supplier had to revamp their product. The scale of our future enterprises has enlarged… hopefully in a good way. :/ )
I keep thinking I need to whip together some of my steam punk flash fictions and put another book out there. But for some reason my heart isn’t in it at the moment. I’m not sure why. Very confused. I’m also stalled on my other writing projects. Perhaps it’s the approaching spring. Maybe it’s worry over five hundred big and little things. Very likely it’s nothing and I just have to push myself through it. Like most of my projects, I’m pretty sure that the moment I really start to work on it it’s all I’ll be able to think about for a month or two. Kinda like those Carls Jr. commercials, except I may as well wear a big shirt that says “Don’t bother me. I’m writing.”
With it being a lot nicer outside, I won’t feel guilty at the idea of pitching the dogs out the back door and into their pen for an hour or two while I concentrate on a project. You see, I write best alone. However, the dogs hate it when there’s only one person in the house. Especially if they hear my husband getting chores done outside. They don’t leave me alone. It’s like they are trying to make me go outside and bring him back to them. That means that my writing time goes something like this:
Let’s see… she’s just decided what poison to use on… What? Why are you bumping my elbow? Yes. I know he went out that door. No, I’m not going to go get him.
Please stop whining. It’s the most annoying sound on the planet.
Now where was I? Ah, yes… she’s crafting the gelatin dessert, should it be orange or raspberry? WHAT?! No! I won’t go get him! Please go lay down!
No, the sad eye thing won’t get you anywhere. Knock it off.
I didn’t mean literally! How did you even manage to tip that over? It was way over there!
No, I did not stand up to let you go outside to find him. Stop barking.
* * *
Yeah, so needless to say, this has been a creatively barren winter.
If only they stayed this cute and small: