I’m working on a project. That is to say, I would be working on a project if I would just sit down and start writing it instead of fiddling out all the details during the regular parts of life-life, know what I mean?
It’s a super secret project with a super secret name and a super secret club house and everything.
And it has a deadline. A big deadline, if your me and you haven’t even started writing the thing yet.
And then there’s the thing where I’m being all racky-tacky mean to myself and doubting I can even write 10,000 coherent words in a readable story by the time Halloween comes tippy-tapping at my door and I have to go walking down the streets of Small Town America with two heartbreakingly adorable little girls in store bought costumes because Mama was too busy tossing words across a page like Jackson Pollock on a caffeine binge to make the costumes they really wanted.
I don’t even want to talk about the memoir. (The What-oir? The memoir, or have you forgotten? Geez, Self.)
So what I’m trying to say here is that I’m on kind of a spazz break. I’m not taking off on Throw Me Thursdays because they’re the only reason anyone opens my junk mail anymore, but I have to chill on blog posts until I get a real story worked out. I’m even leaving the essay I wrote about going back home to simmer a while on the back burner.
It means too much to toss out prematurely for rejection.
If you’re really hankering for something to chew on, you should check out Atoll Annie and the Non-Specific Rim. She’s incredible and has never disappointed me, though, I could have done without that port-o-potty hiding guy. Yeah.
Oh, and by the way, my baby is going to be turning 5 in exactly 2 months from today. It’s a little intense, know what I mean?