It's the holiday break, and I'm three chapters into the eight chapter quota I set for myself. In the middle of the third, I happened upon a turn of phrase which made me rethink the naming conventions of the books involved with my little project. Which is not to say the name the books have were flippantly decided, nor is it to say that I haven't said the names over a hundred times to myself already, and even grown quite comfortable with them. What I'm saying is that the line that came out of me made so much sense, and tied things up so nicely, that I was happy I didn't get the first manuscript through, that I still have time to make it really, really good. A royalty report I got recently leads me to believe that there just might be a window for me to sneak through to make a market for myself. To that end, I'm pretty grateful, and am going to do my due diligence.
But I'm thankful for small things, too, this season. I unexpectedly found some soda in the back of the pantry and a new, tasty flavor of ramen, for instance.
I have totally botched the short story, though. I just remembered the other day that it was even on my list of things to do. I have no plans to make time for it during the break, as it turns out I've miscalculated how much off time I actually have off, so the eight chapters is going to be a bit of a hustle. I expressed to a co-worker my thoughts that I needed a new hobby, and she said "writing is your hobby." My immediate retort was "writing isn't a hobby, not for me." It felt like a comfortable thing to say, and I didn't have to snap it out either. It had the calm ring of truth.They say Stephen King writes everyday, even on his birthday, even on Christmas. I'm set to be like him tomorrow in that very specific way, and it feels kind of right.
May you be merry tomorrow, if for no other than to greet another day.