We’re getting older, kids. We’re not kids anymore.
All tagged writer
Welp, it’s December! The calendar proclaims it is so and I’ve never been one to argue with time. Except for that one time when I “hour shamed” 59 minutes. Another story, another… time.
It has ended. Blood has been spilled. Promises fulfilled. Final word count: 50,632
I’m not blogging this week. Why? Because I’m on a bloggy break. This one doesn’t count. There’s nothing to see here. Just a placeholder for the week of July eh, what’s today’s date? 24th? I don’t think it’s the 24th yet.
I’m busy contemplating many things, including but not limited to marketing Marcus, finding time to draft new projects, figuring out how to present/possibly package said projects, reading and blogging Shakespeare, anticipating Frozen 2 with frosty breath (OMG it’s gonna be so good!)…
For as long as I can remember, I’ve dreamed of being a published author. It began, one might suppose, in my early childhood days of climbing the branches of the tree in our front yard to sit there, midway up in the perfect nook, reading for hours on end.
Write if I want to. Write if I want to. You would write too, if it happened to you.