I’m going to start this post by saying… my son is a moron. His social ineptitude knows no bounds. I don’t understand how we [my spouse and I] can raise two children the same way, and have one turn out near perfect [in terms of social acceptance, dealing with responsibility, and possessing average mental health] while the other just crashes and burns every chance he gets.
Ok, I’m done with that.
Tonight, the kiddos and I are going to Barnes and Noble. While they feast on cupcakes and look through magazines, I’ll be taking some pics for the circle-blog. I want to show off my titles on the Nook reader [I own only a KINDLE]. On other digital fronts – I signed my distribution contract with Kobo today, so I should see my my digital titles available at Borders online, sometime in February.
Thinking more and more about writing again [no BL/yaoi, sorry]. I might take some personal time off to write. My hours now are limited to what I can do and writing full time is just not an option. I work daily at the bank and come home to the family at 6pm; by the time we’re done socializing, its shower and bed time for me because 7am comes early when you’re nearing 11pm the night before.
A friend of mine pointed something he’d read on on NK Jemison’s blog about how she structures her time to fit writing [or expressed that she needed to do this in order to retain a ‘full time writer’ status]. I must admit, my jealousy flared. I’m from NYC, and I’d love to go back—I’d love to go back to a time when all I had was a bill-paying vocation, a social life, and time to write. It was pointed out to me then, by friend, that whilst I toiled away in comics fandom, I had plenty of time to ‘write’, I just didn’t. If I argued he was wrong, I’d be in massive denial. Sure, I wrote some books—but where was I while they were being drawn? Acting like a child in the genre fandom. His taunt also prompted me to think about my days back home when I was young—single, and childfree. Who had time to write full time when there was partying to be done when not at work? I’ve grown up, but so has my free time. I envy anyone my age with the sense to remain single, childfree, and make significant time for writing. There were so many science fiction and action works I’d been developing before comics. Ramaxia is still my baby; all notes and characters are in a file at the office. Beyond Wonder too… then there was Rodina [a medieval history of a brewing family]. Now I’ve depressed myself. Last month I fell into the trap of lamenting my current state of creative non-existence while reading new books on the KINDLE. I swore I’d never be THAT WRITER, the one that feels regret when she reads new material from others. Yet there I was…what a pitiful state.
I’ve written nothing new in over 9 months.
Ending on a cheerful note: my daughter has developed a mild crush on Mo Rocca since becoming addicted to Food(ography). Though she swears her admiration of him began when I made her watch those I Love the 80’s shows on VH1. I find him funny, but not attractive. I’ll begin worrying when she starts jonesing on Guy Fieri >_<