Today is library day! It always makes me feel like singing. A weekly trip to that temple of goodness and literacy is a fantastic way to bond with the children and also get a little reading time in. I am happy-dancing in my chair just thinking about it.
I wrote a piece on how writers have to pee like everyone else. Okay, fine, it’s about how quality isn’t free and why I think people should kick a few pennies to Fireside Magazine’s Year 4 fundraiser.
I had a whole screed planned about how if books weren’t worth paying for, why do people get so furious when writers don’t write “fast enough” and related issues, but I’m in too good a mood to tilt at the windmill of entitlement today. It’s like the writing advice I used to give–I get tired of repeating myself, and furthermore tired of the whining from people who don’t want to understand that this is a craft, it takes work and dedication. Their loss.
The garden is doing well, the dogs are content, I have a little extra time to catch up on copyedits, and it’s no longer so ungodly warm outside. All in all, it’s too lovely a day to be my usual misanthrope self. I’ll just take the machete and go dancing into the streets.
Ha. Made you flinch. (Whether it’s for the machete or for my dancing, I’ll leave to the imagination.)
Over and out.