So I've just sent out my novel to members of my two writing groups, in hopes that they'll have a chance to read it and give me feedback. At 130K, I've finished it to a point where I want a sense of the thing as a whole before I rip it apart and put it back together.
I'm hoping we're talking minor surgery, not a full multiorgan transplant.
As a reward/sanity check, I've decided to take two weeks off of writing. Completely. Nothing on my shorts, no plotting on the other novel sitting on my shelf looking at me with big puppy dog eyes.
So now I don't really know what to do with myself. Even when I procrastinated, I was procrastinating on something. Now I don't have to procrastinate, or argue against it. Suddenly my weekends and evenings have no demands.
So I mowed the lawn. I was very thorough. Barb thought I looked a bit mad.
Culture when it takes us captive
22 hours ago