the conference for the book

Well, I spent too much money on this stupid writing workshop thing that everyone told me was so worthwhile, and I realized something important: talking about writing pisses me off. So I could make a case that the money was worth it, as it erased any desire to enter a pricey MFA program. But as I already knew I didn't want to pay thousands of dollars to talk to other people about writing, the workshop was a complete loss.

It's been a frantic week, and my mood has been less than stellar. So to be here on Friday morning, with the window open, sitting at the computer after taking a long walk with the girls (aka Shadow and Dido) and figuring out the niceties of my new novel's plot, is a complete and unadulterated treat.

I'm going to start drafting the new novel on March 30th, in one week, because I'm tired of not writing. In that one week, I have a crapload of character development, research, and plot outlining to do, so that hopefully I can write this one once or twice rather than four times.

Maybe I can get it done by the time I turn twenty-five.