My heart is so not in this… I am thinking about what I will be doing after. I always say I won’t write more books, especially about the same old nonsense, but maybe I will. Or maybe I’ll write better books.
I’m already an author… but I think I’m getting closer to being an author… because everything else — the rest of working life — is just as big a drag, but with less freedom. I mean… you can slap keys anywhere. My last book(s) were written mostly on the road. Network in the trunk of the car… pull it out with the dirty laundry, set up on the bed and sit in the lo-fi Motel 6 and work on your next title.
I don’t know.
I shouldn’t even be thinking about this now, I have work to do, I’m really in a crunch. I’m also not communicating as much as I should with some people… Although I did try to fscking call everyone on Friday night (I think) and nobody was around. I left a bunch of messages.
I’m waiting for another batch of Alandia Boheme to arrive. I have developed a taste for it. That’s gonna cost me. I don’t wanna polish off what I have until replacements are handy.
This is all crap. I’m going to go do my laundry and fscking get some work done so that I don’t look like a minor jackass tomorrow and a major jackass on Thursday when I’m supposed to present. That’s called vanity.
The latest book looks like it will sell well again.
To you: If you read this before your exam, I hope any last-minute studying is going well. If after… I hope you won. You rule.