I've been lax. Call it mid-summer doldrums. Call it the blehs. Call it anything you want as long as you mean the same thing. (Because calling it, for instance, 'peanut butter' would just be silly.)
I haven't blogged much - for which I apologize to any of my faithful readers (few though they may be). I haven't written anything new. I have gotten back into the swing of editing, but my heart's not in it. Maybe I need a vacation. (Or maybe I just need a pitcher of mai tai's and a white sandy beach.)
Right about now everyone seems to be getting geared up for the RWA National in San Francisco. I admit to being jealous as hell. All those wonderful people I've talked to online, or whose blogs I frequent, will be there. And I'll be here in BFC (like BFE only not Egypt) sweating myself into a puddle and wondering whether they'll have fudgicles on sale this week at the local grocery store. I'll be debating on whether to stand over a hot stove making something magnificent for dinner or slap together sandwiches - while the conference attendees are eating real food they didn't make to make themselves. I'll be sitting here wondering if any of my lost queries are going to get a response (because even a rejection letter is something - at least it means my query didn't fall into a black hole) while all those people will be out there schmoozing with industry professionals.
It's enough to make a gal want to eat a gallon of Choco Malt Chip ice cream. (Which is my favorite even if they don't make it anymore.) It's enough to make me long for the weekend I spent lounging by the pool at the Tropicana in Las Vegas, drinking fruity drinks and soaking up the sun.
It's even enough to make me wonder if I'm ever going to get published... and WHEN damn it... so I have a reason to go to a big conference and schmooze myself. *pout*
I guess it's just one of those days. We all go through them. A little sliver of time when I don't wanna be grown-up about anything. I just want to pout and whine.
But I can't. I'm 38 years old, which means too old to think pouting and whining is in any way productive, or that it's going to get me what I want. (I learned that lesson early. Pouting an whining in my house was the quickest way to NOT get what you wanted - and frequently got you things you didn't.) I'll be back at work again tonight. Slogging away on Manhunter to get it prepared for critting and beta reading (and submitting).
Right now, though, I think I'm going to go flop on the couch and sulk.
Tell me. Are you going to National? Are you even a member of RWA? Do you even care?
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