Wednesday, October 17, 2012
I'm learning a little about my writing style. I think I'm a little like Jack, becoming a little manic as I write.
Hopefully I'm accomplishing more than typing "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy" thousands of times.
Bipolar may describe me. Right now I'm in the manic stage, trying so desperately to get this book written. I yelled at my grandsons. (Note to self: Do not try to work when grandkids are visiting.) I've always wondered how people with children were able to write. Do they remain serene when others disturb them? Not me, I turn into Jack.
Okay--so, probably the best thing to do would be hole up in a hotel room for a few weeks until I get my book done.
Wait--isn't that what Jack did? On second thought, if anyone decides to give me a nice, quiet place to stay, please keep family and friends away. And small animals.
Otherwise, things may get ugly!
*Of course I'm trying to be funny. Just wanted to make that clear. It has nothing to do with the fact that Carl hid all the sharp things in the house...
**That too was an attempt at humor. I'll let you know if I start seeing twin girls....