Remember that conference I went to way back when?
Today I got a phone call from one of the workshop leaders.
She asked me how my writing was going.
I said fine. (Lie.)
She asked me if it was a novel or memoir.
I said novel. (True.)
She asked me how far along I was.
I said I didn't know. (Lie. I know. I'm caught somewhere between the beginning, which I am endlessly re-writing, and despair that I will never figure out what to do.)
(At this point the phone call means less, since she was trying to persuade me to sign up for another conference, and my Outlook Calendar and pocketbook can't handle that concept at the moment.)
But I kind of wanted to ask her if she wouldn't mind calling me back in six months.
Not that I really want to sign up for her workshop, but a regular dose of reality would be nice.