A Drudge('s) Report

The problem with being a writer is that when you're writing there's nothing to write about. Sure, there's the fictional world to deal with but that's not much use to you if you're trying to blog.

What did I do today? I got up. I got dressed. No, wait a minute. Didn't I fall asleep last night on the sofa in jeans and a t-shirt while working on revisions to Just Like Heaven? The last thing I remember was noting the time -- a little after 3 a.m. -- and then . . . nothing. Next thing I knew it was eight o'clock and there I was, grubby and cranky and underslept, with the laptop on my stomach and a melted cup of lemon Italian ice on the table next to me.

I am determined to finish those revisions by the end of the day tomorrow. Absolutely determined. I can see what needs to happen between Mark and Kate, I understand the emotion behind it. It's just a question of finally settling on the exactly right words to make you see it too.

The knitting blog has been calling to me. I have to stop fiddling with the template. That way lies madness and, knowing my uncanny ability to destroy everything electronic that I touch, that way also lies oblivion for Romancing The Yarn.

Barbara