I haven't blogged all week. I'm sorry. And it's not because I don't love you anymore, or don't need you anymore, or because Kyle has risen from the dead.
It's because I'm writing again. I've finally returned to fiction in earnest, and I've found that it uses the same part of my brain that blogging does. Which means that it's hard to do both on a daily basis. For months, I've been putting all my energies into blogging, but now I finally have a fiction project I'm excited about working on.
So. I'm sorry to say that I'll be blogging less in the future. More of a weekly/bi-weekly thing. But the upside is I'll be inching ever closer to that magical day when I can beg you all to buy my book.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Because I Call Myself a Fiction Writer
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8 comments:
I can name at least 20 people for whom begging will NOT be necessary..
You are soooo damn cute . . . and funny!
I love you, Aunt Di
This week I have been like any other addict denied their drug of choice - completely fanatical. Several times a day, every day, I've gone online, searching frantically for one more word from you (this from someone who discovered your blog less than a month ago). Upon hearing your excuse however, I am applauding loudly. Just be aware that once the uninitiated get ahold of your novel, a cry will go up around the world. "MORE, MIRANDA, MORE!!"
Excellent news - we need more good fiction. But please, before you vanish, please finish the story of the real estate disaster that's sending you to mid-town!
....sigh....i'll miss the GTD, living in NY vicariously, your marvelous reflections and commentaries, and of course, your memories of Kyle.....
...but, so thrilled you've found your inner muse... : )
i've been so looking forward to the day i would hear (or read) this from you. my heart sings.
so looking forward to seeing you a week from today.
I have to remind myself that some birds aren't meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knew it was a sin to lock them up in the first place, does rejoice. Still the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they're gone. I guess I just miss my friend.
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