Husband is driving me insane at the moment. I went to my novel critique group tonight and by the time I got home, he either developed a urinary tract infection or some man peeing problem. If that’s too much for you, imagine how I feel. I can’t do a thing to help him and I’m annoyed. I thought I’d have a few minutes to look over the notes from tonight and let them inform my re-write and/or my next twenty pages I need to have sent to the group by the 17^th of December. Instead, he’s up, down, in the bathroom, drinking water…poor thing. 

So, other than that…I’m behind in my NaNoWriMo word count, hence writing this blog post the night before I post it. With a bit of luck, I’ll be able to get up early tomorrow and write enough words to get where I need to be if I’m going to “win” this thing.

Oh good, Husband listened to me, put a bathrobe on and that “fixed” his problem. Marriage is an interesting concept. I can’t imagine what he’d write about me if he had a blog. Probably how I am the bitch who brings in wood, keeps the fire going, the dishes washed, the laundry taken care of, meals prepared. Yeah. It’s worth noting that he is the most awesome guy and he fixes all the broken appliances, cleans the chimney, builds me things, plows the driveway. We take care of each other out of love, concern, and respect. 

But some days…I bet we’re both ready to kill each other and make it look like an “accident.”

I got slammed with three rejections on Monday, by mail, email, and Submittable, oh yeah. Trifecta from hell. My reaction? I sent out four submissions on Wednesday and I plan to get out another four by the end of Thursday. *Sigh.*

Being a writer is a crazy. It’s gumption and sauce, talent and desire, and in the end so sad. I mean it is insane that some critically acclaimed writers had success but ended up offing themselves while mediocre ones are eating up people’s time and money. I know it’s always been this way, but as I get closer to being a “product,” the more I wonder about the parameters and which one I want to be…loved while I’m here or after I’m gone.

 

Yes, I do love the problems I have. And where I live.

Thanks for checking in.

 

(These are just my Creekside Reflections. Your experiences may vary)