I joined a writer’s group in the hopes of growing and making new friends, and that seems to be working out. It is amazing how being around other people that do what you do (or want to do) can light the fire of inspiration. The last and, admittedly, only other attempt I made in participating in a writer’s community was years ago, and its attendees were an exercise in self-absorption. In contrast, everyone in gl(ow) seems eager to grow and experiment with their writing, and thus far critiques have been helpful and not the least bit vicious. I am optimistic.
So what if we all skipped this week’s assignment and ate hot dogs instead? That’s art, maaaaaan.
My goal to finish my last batch of books by the time I’m 30 is… crazy, but I’m trying to do it anyway. I am 33% done with novel #3, and I’ve got 24 days to churn out 120 more pages. Don’t do the math, it’s too painful. Before Daylight Savings Time, I was getting up at 6am every weekday to write before work. That has fallen to the wayside and, coupled with an ambitious-for-us home renovation project, writing has hit a lull. Strangely, this is okay. I am more concerned with finishing this series in a satisfactory way than the timing of crossing that finish line.
And hey! Speaking of impending failure:
I’m participating in this year’s Pittsburgh Marathon. This is hilarious because, wow, do I hate running. If I’m not being chased by a bear, I just don’t see the point. However, Josh wanted to set up a relay team, and I like him more than I hate running, so I volunteered to be a part of it. So I’m trying to… train? It is pretty darn horrible. But doing stuff you hate builds character, right? If my knees continue to hold out, I think my determination will too.
Also, I really want to dye part of my hair pink. I can’t figure out if this is some kind of surprise “omg-thirtieth-birthday” panic bubbling to the surface, or if the anxieties I’ve been recently working on peeling back are leaving me unafraid to do something I’ve wanted to do since I was sixteen.