Wednesday, March 26, 2008

I'm writing about people who have lives.

I'm slaving away over a hot manuscript. Editing editing. Comma by comma. To capital or not to Capital - that is the question. Whether I should split the sentence or give it the bum steer and just drop it. That's my life. The sum total of my life at the moment.

In other words.

I have no life.

But the people in my manuscript sure do. They have a life. I gave it to them. They came out of my head, dammit! You see there's life in the old girl yet.

I gotta get a life. I can't get romance because I quite like the current model. He Who Would Like to be Obeyed is a bit of a keeper! So what's left. Babies? Done that. Two are enough. Dinner parties arguing the pros and cons of the recent election with people who probably voted for the current idiots anyway. Football? Tennis clubs? Hotel for drinkies on Saturday night?

I'd much rather tuck my bunny slippers under my backside and do what I'm doing.

Dream on Zara. Dream on.

PS. If you missed, you millions of silent lurkers, I've been blogging on the Romance Writers Unlimited blog.

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