Usually after I receive an acceptance, my inbox quickly fills with rejections. This time was different. This time I received a second acceptance.
Cactus Heart Press wants one of my creative nonfiction pieces. Yes, please!
Nothing much else happening. I’m stuck in my second novel again. Can’t seem to write. Nothing budges, not one damned word. Very aggravating. I know it will pass (this too shall pass), but until it does I am loss as what to do. I hate, and I mean I despise, the phrase “writer’s block.” It reminds me of a butcher block, something hard and cold and impersonal, something used to hack up bloody pieces of cow which, when you think about it, is probably close to how it feels to not be writing. But I still hate typing or writing or even saying those words (swear words to a writer, vulgar; obscene).
Luckily, I’m housesitting with just dogs and birds for company, and neither cares if I write or not as long as I give them adequate attention and food.
Pics shot during my late afternoon run. I love the milky-blue Alaska twilight.
Tonight I’m watching trashy reality shows (Hoaders and House Hunters–bring ’em on!) while trying not to obsess about my non-writing status.