Fasten your seatbelts...

This is a blog about absolutely nothing. You see, I'm sitting here, eyes barely open from my late nights and early mornings, debating over whether or not I should eat. Oh, I don't want just anything, folks. I want a hamburger. Please don't ask me why because I can't answer that question for myself. It just sounds good to me. Almost as good as crawling (climbing, actually) into my giant bed for 50 hours of sleep. Wine just isn't cutting it.

The problem is if I cook, it could cause my husband an ego hit. He made dinner, which smelled a little charred when I came home an hour late from work. I love what he made--black-eyed peas--but I want something different. This is probably a lame excuse to avoid writing. I'll admit it. If I felt more awake, I might actually muster the energy to feel guilty about that. As it stands, guilt ain't on the menu tonight.

I did a classic no-no last night and opened an old manuscript for kicks. Yet again, I've discovered a personal flaw. I have no clue how to describe my stories. Like writing them isn't enough. Did you hear that sigh? As a solution to this newly discovered issue, I asked a co-worker who does not at all read in my genre to read my 2nd book with the purpose of telling me what she thinks the story's about.

I asked her first, didn't just dump the 400 pages on her lap. She was actually excited, poor thing! Last we spoke about it, she said the beginning of my book "totally captivated" her. Now, I'd told her to be brutal with me before she even agreed to read. After all, my goal is publication, not a pat on the head. I'm curious to know what she'll say about all the rest. This experience is sort of like querying agents. You want to know what they're going to say, but you can't ask because that goes against established mores. Instead, you wait for the slip of paper to arrive in the mail. Yes, I need to see more, or the more common big fat NO. There go those pins and needles...