Some days I really don’t mind working on the business side of this self-publishing adventure of mine—all right, to be clear, it’s more like I don’t resent it as much as I do most of the time. It’s just not something that draws me in, know what I mean? If you’re a puzzler or chess player, you’re no doubt aware of how mind-numbing your hobby can be to some. If you’re on the opposite end of the spectrum & need an adrenaline rush just to lure you off the couch, you’re probably also aware of how tedious it can be to somebody to hear about your latest harrowing experience while they’re contemplating the dirty dishes piling up in the kitchen sink or the unfulfilled promises lingering in the air.
This morning I’m not in the mood for anything approaching a puzzler day or a ski-slope adventure day.
I just want to write. Don’t care what—something that’s been rattling around in my head for a bit; something I’ve forgotten about till I delve into my journal & notes; something that materializes by the time I finish the end of this sentence.
But I have business to attend to, a deadline to face, a festering heap of reminders to check off.
Hey, that might be a decent title for a story of some sort. A Festering Heap . . . it’s got a ring to it, don’t you think?
Till next time,
Drew
