Friday, December 08, 2006
groan!
Today, I almost didn't write. I thought of a bazillion things I need to do instead. But I was strong. And panicky. It is a sad fact that novels do not write themselves. They do not magically appear in your word processor ready to go, all but for a little polishing. Drats. You have to put the words there yourself, one-at-a-painful-time. And when they don't seem much like the wonderful words you imagined before you sat down to write, you have to suck it up and keep writing so that, eventually, you have enough words to edit into something. I really hate this part. Passionately. I would rather clean my room than write brand spanking new novel-words. But I was strong. My room is not clean (but must be by 7:15 am Wednesday, alas).
What else can I say?
I have my local RWA chapter meeting tomorrow morning so I can't sleep late. Plus soccer games. Plus this appointment so that Carolyn can learn about how to wear makeup for my updated author photo which I need to get, plus, the ABC/PBS documentary thing on Wednesday. So Saturday, I drive 45 miles south to Berkeley then back north for my consultation, then I drive 27 miles south to my son's soccer games (there are 2) and back north. Ick. But I can't change the appt for obvious reasons. I should think.
Sigh I try to keep politics out of this blog, but I suppose I can't since it seems I'm to be on National TV in April. I am a plaintiff in the
Electronic Frontier Foundation's lawsuit against AT&T for allegedy turning over their customers' internet traffic to the NSA without a warrant. More accurately, I suppose, the EFF represent me in this lawsuit. So, ABC TV will be out here interviewing the EFF and me. My son is thrilled that they want to get footage of him going off to school. No one was deterred from this notion when I mentioned that this means he cuts across the field to the neighbor's house because he gets a ride from them. (Their son goes to the same school). Are these New Yorkers prepared for Petaluma? I think not. Should be interesting. Anybody think I can lose 20 pounds by Wednesday?
Me neither.
Labels: politics, writing
