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I’d like to thank my brain. Although you are cruel, chaotic, divergent, and loud, you think of these words I write, and for that I am indebted.
Maybe yours is loud too…
from the realm
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I thought today would feel different. In some ways it does… I guess. My anxiety is ratcheted up a notch, even from its usual “stuck on high” setting. I feel uncertain about what I should be doing more of to promote it, but I’ve done that every day since I finished my first draft, so…
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I am a walking set of contradictions, an enigmatic concoction of diametrically opposed ingredients. My parts are eclectic and difficult to reconcile. On one hand, I have a burning desire for my book to be read. I want it in the world, being devoured, and touching people’s lives. I want my book to succeed. I…
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When I start a book, I have but the vaguest of an outline. I can speak in generalities about the plot and overarching themes. I know the broad strokes. I know the tone I want to set. I see the colors of the book insofar as they express its mood. I know it on a…
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I like to think of myself as a relatively stable adult. That’s mostly true. But sometimes I devolve into stress induced panic over things I’ve treated like existential crises. Here are a few things my brain and I fought over this week: • The strength of my voice in a loud restaurant • Whether my…