Okay campers. I know I’ve been a little flirty these days. I mean, who actually writes a book, tells the world and then refuses to let people read the damn thing?
This past week has been a bit off-schedule, as I think most of the rest of this project is going to go. I’ve sent my manuscript to the only person I trust to not only call me on my bullshit, but also know when to use “that” instead of “which”. She’s thrilled at the idea of taking care of my baby while she’s also going to be busy delivering a baby of her own. (She’s due to give birth to an actual child, not a book—although she’s an excellent writer.) So those of you awaiting a cursory glance at the manuscript while in it’s infancy are going to have to wait for another infant to at least give his mother some time to take a serious look. Personally, I’m counting on all those raging hormones to give me a break. We’ll see.
I’ve also got a call into someone who is going to help me with the website. So the next time you read the blog, you’ll be able to subscribe, and that darn picture of me running across my Aunt Clara’s backyard just might stretch across the whole page the way I want it to. We’ll see.
And probably the biggest thing I have to let you know about is “the book” page will most likely change to “the books” as I have enough leftovers for another start on a fascinating tale of a young man perfecting his slacking abilities whilst pursuing fame and fortune in the big city. Granted, that means I’m going to have to keep writing about myself, and to be perfectly honest, I’m a little bored with that. I might pick up a fiction story I whipped up years ago and finish it. We’ll see.
That’s what’s on the agenda. I’ve committed to three posts per week—roughly 50% of what I’ve been doing these past six weeks. They may be short and sweet, but that’s the plan.
We’ll see.