I shouldn’t complain about the heat. I feel like an a-hole. You know like that lyric in Denis Leary’s song? “I walk around in the summertime saying, “How about that heat?” And it’s not like I’m a firefighter up in Colorado Springs or something. (Lord, please bring them rain.) And I’m not a Bedouin living in a tent in the middle of the Sahara or something. So I don’t have air-conditioning. We do have ceiling fans and if worse comes to worst, we can always walk down to the beach (if the damn tourists will move over and leave some space on the sand) and enjoy the breeze and the cool water. So what if it’s 86 degrees F with a relative humidity of 66% making it feel as though is is 106! It could be worse. (Not that I’m asking for proof of that, Lord.) In Dhaka, Bangladesh right now it’s 84 degrees F but their relative humidity is at 87%. If the relative humidity is 100% is it raining? Indeed.
So, I’ve been researching publishers and editors online and WOW. There is so much to learn. I am not certain if I want to self-publish. I know you get more profit-wise but I don’t know that I’m that much of a control freak and really…who has the time? I get sick of my own self-promotion just spreading around my links back to this blog. I love the attention but honestly, if I have to beg for it, People. It’s just so anticlimactic.
A very, dear friend of mine (you’re all dear friends but this one I’ve been friends with since 1987) read all the chapters of my novel that I’ve written so far and she said that it’s kinda of memoir-ish and that the character I wanted as my main character…next to myself…is sort of hanging out there. So that was disappointing. BUT,
still encouraging. I can fix all of that later if I can just sit down and pound out my story. I’m starting to sleep an awful lot lately. I could be getting sick. But I think it’s just the heat. So if I can just tie a cotton scarf on my head to keep the sweat out of my eyes and sit down and type my heart out, I can go back and edit the crap out of it and tie it all together later, right?
My mom once told me that the devil’s favorite tool is not lust or envy or any of the glamorous sounding sins. It is discouragement. Because when we are discouraged we tend to doubt ourselves and then we give up. Giving up prevents us from being the most or best that we can be. And I thought about that yesterday. I thought about it a lot. And I know that I’m sabotaging myself by allowing the heat and lack of time (really, lack of MAKING time) and whatever other excuse I can think up, to prevent me from completing this work.
(Honestly, that could all be said for me failing miserably at this dieting thing, too. But that’s another bridge to jump from later.) So, I’m going to do this. I’m going to write. And for once in my life, I’m going to COMPLETE this task before starting another. (Pinterest, your lovely DIY projects will have to be put on hold.)
I AM a writer. I will write.