This morning I was gripped by the incredible need to write another novel. It’s been 3 months since I finished the second one and I haven’t honestly given much time to my writing since then. Which I don’t like, at all.

Still, I was laying in bed, drifting in that stage before you’re awake but not still asleep and thinking all about this other novel I wanted to write. And it has nothing to do with my series, and all I have is a shaky plot outline, and most of me is thinking “it’s a very terrible idea to start something new” but there’s that very insistent little part that’s trying to convince myself otherwise. Being a writer requires you to exercise your writing muscles, after all, and therefore I could use some practice.

Still, I feel like I ought to “practice” on the novels I already I have. I should finish the series.  I should…

Should is such an easy thing to say.

Meanwhile, I’m slowly selling off my life on ebay and craigslist. I want the fancy camera and I want it now. I don’t want to wait until I slowly accrue the money. So…the ebaying. I keep hitting refresh to see how much people are bidding. It’s terrible and wonderful all at once.  Also, I keep looking around my room and wondering what else I could sell. If you’re in the market for a riding lawnmower – let me know.

Oh Monday. You are by far the cruelest day. Even when you involve lunch and dinner reservations.