Sassy Gay Friend) and when it's driving, it tends to just be a series of exclamation points (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) I'm sure there are more, but those are the biggies.
When it comes to writing -- not this blog, not a brief, but actual snooty-dust-jacket-photo writing -- I get a big case of the Silly Old Bears, as in A.A. Milne's Winnie-the-Pooh, a distinct character from the creepily gender-ambiguous Disney Winnie-the-Pooh that freaked me out as a child. The Zen, simple Pooh who had a noggin full of fluff but never found himself in any harm.
Except a noggin full of fluff is very unhelpful when you're trying to write a publishable novel and then (apparently even harder) find an agent for said novel. I have to say, this whole world is baffling. Why are the titles of books in ALL CAPS? When did ALL CAPS stop being irritating, or at the very least, ironically amusing? And why did no one in my English classes as an undergrad tell me that this is how things work?
Isn't a NaNo an iPod or (if you go back a little further) an electronic pet? And when did it become NaNoWriMo? That's way too much, people. That's how folks end up buying crooked apartments downwind of a sewage treatment facility.
I love reading blogs about writing, until suddenly I get WRITING BLOG OVERLOAD (see, that's ironically amusing) and have to stop because I get overwhelmed by jargon, or statistics, or just flat-out snarkiness. (I love snark as much as the next girl, but when we're talking about my secret shiny dream that has massive potential of never coming true, it gets old fast.) Then, both a blessing and a curse, Writing Bear takes over to remind me that simple things are best, like the words, "What about lunch?"
And I like thinking about Future Awesome Published Girl, not because I want the additional paycheck, but because I would really love having a real book that I wrote on my bookshelf, and also because it's more fun doing something when you think other people might enjoy it too. Financial security is pretty much irrelevant to me, since I already covered that base when I went to law school, and why I have come to terms with the fact that a nice pair of knockers is a more sensible backup plan in case I ever need to marry for money/become a pole dancer. (Ahem, excuse me, "vertical fitness enthusiast.") In short, I love money like Gollum loves the ring, but whenever it occurs me that published writers get paid, it's like, "Wait, they get money, too?!?" Like I said, a silly bear.
Here comes the point: I am trying to get my bear butt in gear. I know I've said it before, but now I'm saying it again.
In a few hours, I will be done writing a chapter in a book (don't get excited - it's not my book, even if I'm getting credit for the chapter) and after that, it will be all Writing Bear, all the time! (In my free time.)
(And not on this blog, since that would be boresville.)
(And not when I need to eat lunch. A bear doesn't change over night, after all.)