Monday, Day 93
In my North-American francophone bubble, autumn has settle down.
Dear fellow writers, the colors in the trees are so beautiful, rich, deep, bright even when the skies are grey, brighter when the sun makes it through.
Looking at the autumn decor is the only good part of the sad part-time day job I have now (what did I got myself into… I’m mean… ugh…).
Somehow though, it does me some good. Whenever I have time to work on the YA paranormal revision these days, I do it with renewed joy.
We’re so lucky, dear fellow writers, to have words and imagination and creativity on our side…
Tonight, the government here closed almost everything again. Restaurants. Movie Theathers. The library.
But not Costco, Walmart, Ikea. No, no, no. Nobody gets sick in a crowed, closed space… … … how deeply sad.
Tuesday, Day 94
Head first in a second pandemic wave. Stay safe everyone.
Wednesday, Day 95
Is your day job taking up too much of your brain space, dear fellow writers?
Mine keeps creeping on me. So much so, I’m thinking of reducing the work hours. Energy is hard to gather up after a day of talking with a chatty old-fashion should retired has-been trying to revive the glory days of his business. The day job is talking. Talking, talking, talking. It’s useless. It doesn’t do any good to the world.
My goal is to earn a living as a published author. If I can’t finish a revision, or even rough draft a new story because whatever I do, I can’t shake off the negatives emotions, I’m stalling !!! Back where I was before I got pregnant, in a rot, in a circle . Writing when I can, once or twice a week, here and there.
I know where that path leads and dear oh dear fellow writers, it’s dark down there, full of anger, bitterness. There’s no room to play with kiddo, to cuddle with hubby-to-be there. No room for anything but my little grumbling self.
Rather work less, reduce expenses, reimbursed the debt on a longer period of time than go down that path again.
Dreaming of getting published just won’t do anymore. I need to make this writing dream a reality.
Tuesday, Day 96
I’m gonna have to start waking up at 4am if I want to finish that rough draft and that revision.
Oh, and quit the part-time day job, which is starting to be more and more a secretary job.
I ain’t good at that. Trust me.
P.S: To all the parents who are working remotely with the young kiddos at home and are still sane: you are incredible!!
Friday, Day 97
Well, well, look at the spit falling back down on one’s presidential face…
Saturday, Day 98
Half-an-hour. That’s all I needed to finish revising chapter 12.
But I didn’t get that.
It’s so tiring to be constantly interrupted, I’m starting to find it pointless to even try.
If only my cute little writing nook had two more walls and a door.
That’s what every writer needs: a door. To close. Or to open wide on different horizons.
Sunday, Day 99
The Ray Bradbury challenge is a fun one.
One short story a week, every week. 52 short stories total.
« Not all of them can be bad », said the master author.
Writing short stories is really not my cup of tea. Totally out of my comfort zone.
A very good reason to try and take on this challenge, I’d say… Let me think about it a little.
Thanks for reading this rambly rambling. Until next time!