Well, hello, light of day!
Thank you, thank you, thank you to the one who crabbed at the author about my silence as of late! I get to come out and play! High-five!
The bad news…
The author is in a slump. It is not pretty. She’s miserable. She makes everyone else miserable. Oscar Wilde said about his own writing: I spent the morning putting in a comma and the afternoon taking it out. Yep, that about sums up our author, except that the comma insertion/extraction is preceded by many swear words and major deliberation about where she is going to write. Sometimes it’s her corner cubby. Sometimes it’s the desk. Sometimes it’s the back step. But wherever she ends up, there’s that damn comma. She ordered a drafting table, and she’s strangely convinced that this is what will get her back in her groove. Jesus, I hope it’s coated with comma-retardant.
Kris says we should hush for a bit, give her a break, cut her some slack. Laura says we should haul her ass into a clinic. She figures that if they run a brain scan, there will be LAC 13 in its entirety. It is all in there. Even the author knows it’s all in there. Do you guys read brain scans?
The good news…
She has been writing most days. It’s just not her usual strides. Baby steps, but steps nonetheless. She’s almost done with Nora Butler and her short story. She hit the 10,000 mark on LAC 13. She’s meditating, eating brain food, exercising, journaling, groveling, etc. I’ve been reading over her shoulder lately as she’s pored through a bazillion author self-help books. It’s normal: they all say. But she’s never been too quick to simply embrace normal. However, I figure that if they don’t cart her away, she’ll be fine—we’ll be fine—and LAC 13 will be completed.
Still, everybody cross your fingers!