The fast-paced glamorous life of the writer never stops. Because I know you care (not), and it's saving you from another six page lit crit post on somebody else's work, here's what I have to do today:
answer this pile of neglected email
page proofs for "Almost True"
sweep the floor
pay those bills
call the insurance company and get them to send me a new insurance card, since I can't find the current one
It looks like I might get the truck back at the end of the week, and then I will be all excitingly mobile with a reliable vehicle again. Yay! Of course, once I get the truck back, I have to start up my gym schedule again. So that's a mixed blessing. [I haven't been since Boskone, though I have done some walking.] On the other hand, I probably needed the break, given I've been borderline sick and so very very tired.
Let's not talk about the $$$.
There are occasional faint flickers of the urge to write, but I'm giving myself off until the 15th, if I can hold out that long. I mean, I have been thinking about "Periastron" and Dust, anyway. Thinking is like work, right? (Then I have to put on a mad push to write "Periastron" and "Black is the Color" and to revise Dust, but Mad Pushes R Us, really.
And then I get some recovery time again. Well, I should start working on the rewrite of All the Windwracked Stars, but if I have my revision notes for Ink & Pen, then I might do that first.
Convention season, after all, is looming.