Thursday, March 24, 2011


When it comes to writing, I’m a stretch runner. I sit and think and tinker for ages, then have a burst of word count upage. As I approach my delivery deadlines, I usually realize I have the last third of my novel still in my head—written, but in my head—and not a word on screen. Panic sets in, but it’s part of the process for me. Words start going down. Page count goes up. Surprises come up in the transition from brain to document. And then one night, usually around 2 a.m., I lean back in my chair and realize I’m finished. I like it. I like putting the pressure on this way, but the moment I hit that send button on the email to my editor, I’m brain mush.

So, here I sit with my mushy brain. Nap? Surf the internet? Write another book immediately? Look for a corporate job? Uh…uh...nap?

This is that moment where I think about all those articles I’ve read about new life phases. You know---someone gets to a point in his life when he’s conquered his job and realizes all his major life goals are settled and he needs something new so he chucks it all to open a swim-with-the-dolphins school in Costa Rica.

I hate that guy.

That’s something you don’t just do. There’s tons of planning involved and never mind the fact that I’m not a retired stockbroker with lots of cheetos in the bank. And let’s not even get into how hard it must be to find dolphins who speak English in Costa Rica.

So, what to do, what to do. 

Hey! I see a couch!

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