Most, and Not Enough


The last day of my 2 week vacation is tomorrow. One more day until I return to my day job, one more day until I return - for the time being, at least - to writing nights and weekends, the odd lunch hour. Back to being a part time writer, full time worker be.

I had some grand aspirations, writing wise, for this vacation. I had thought that, hey! at last, I have some uninterupted time to write. I can pretend for a couple of weeks that writing is what I do full time. I can practice that life, and try it on for size. I had aspirations of pounding out 40k words on the next book, minimum. Go for a long walk each day and think about what to write tomorrow. Drink some wine, and shop second hand stores for berets and vintage cigarette holders.

I didn’t get there.

Emily got sick. We rearranged the furniture in two bedrooms, including the complete disassembling and reassembling of various Ikea spawn. We went to the cottage for the long weekend. Attended a couple of barbeques and a birthday party for a 2 year old.

In other words, life intervened.

However, I did write 12k words of the new book. I edited about 100 pages of the second. I edited twenty words in the first. I spent some time on Authonomy. I read 2.5 novels.

And I started a blog on tumblr.

I guess that’s enough.