And the writer writes…

Is it just me or is it really, bloody confusing?

I’m a writer!

I’m an actor!

I’m a writer!

I’m a fucking desert topping!!!

… well, I find it confusing…

Up until recently, my literary endeavors have been conveniently restricted to work hours, when I could get some work time freed up to do some writing. In order to get the work time freed up, I would work twice as hard as most other people, skipping breaks and lunches and my time writing would make up for that.

Well, things recently changed at work. Writing was no longer an option since my work time would have to be fully accounted for… dammit. So, no writing. But I decided that, if I wasn’t going to be allowed to write, I certainly wasn’t going to put in all that extra effort. I would work slow! Damned slow!

And, so I started, working at a pace that made snails feel superior. Dammit, I was slow!

… or so I thought. I was actually working at the same pace as everyone else. Imagine what an eye-opener that was!! Here I was, restraining myself lest my pace pick up, forcing myself to work slower, slower, slower… and it turned out that’s how most people regularly worked. Freakish!

This also meant I had to move my writing to home. I warned Vicky about how busy I’d be… and immediately auditioned for a play. There’s another audition today… and I might go…

But here’s the thing. I’ve reached the 80,000 word mark and am rapidly closing in on 90,000 words and completion. Not only that but I have an idea for my next book and – DAMMIT, WHEN’S A GUY SUPPOSED TO ACT???

Seriously, can someone just cut me in half?