Constipation

I haven’t been too bloggy of late.  Oddly enough, I’ve been fiendishly kicking out short stories, which is a good thing.

Big transition.  Huge transition.  Mind-googling transition, that has left me utterly speechless about the nonfiction world.  Here is the list of posts I’ve considered writing and haven’t been able to start:

All middle-aged Canadian women look alike

Movers:  Superheroes in action (if they ever deliver my stuff)

Why does quiet scare me now?

…and finally, There should be something called form rage

So, that’s kind of where I’m at.  If I can find a laxative, I’ll share something soon.

Quote

Writing isn’t just a job that stops at six thirty. It’s a mad, sexy, sad, scary, ruthless, joyful, and utterly, utterly personal thing. There’s not the writer and then me; there’s just me. All of my life connects to the writing. All of it.

Russell T. Davies (via writingadvice)