There’s never a good time to talk about writing. I’ve learned to not talk about it around people. It doesn’t get me anything and no one cares. I could write about it all day long though!

I wonder how much happier I would be if I just stopped writing and ended the struggle. Every day I could come home and just relax and watch movies and play video games. Weekends too. Whenever I have free time, I could just be free. I could pick up new hobbies, less solitary ones that are readily gratifying. I would also be able to talk about something else besides writing. I’m becoming totally one-dimensional.

I agonized last night about a character for hours, going back and forth, weighing the consequences, and drawing together and following threads. I still haven’t figured out anything and can’t move on easily and focus with the frayed ends waving loose around my face. It’s never a wall or a block in my way. It’s always been haze and swamps.

I think I might just be doing it to do it. Sheer stubbornness. There has to be some payoff somewhere here. At least complaining about this precious problem is fun.

My dragon story got rejected last night. I’m bummed. I put it back up on Kindle. While I was there, I checked my sales and got super excited when I saw I got some page reads for my lottery story. It’s so rare that I ever get any activity on the dashboard but when I do, it feels amazing like nothing else. I also like getting page reads more than discrete sales in that I could see that someone has actually read through the story. So great.

Couch moving was a success. When you have a couch, a TV, and something to put your feet on, you have it all. Elbert got a U-Haul with an illegal Lawrence in the back and there’s no part of riding around in a van moving stuff around that is anything but good times.