I'm fairly certain the leading cause of death in Wisconsin in the winter months is bad temper. Second is probably ennui, followed by heart failure while shoveling the front walk, then being murdered by your spouse when you go away on a business trip to Florida and call her to complain about the air conditioning in your room. (Milo, I suggest that when your flight gets in tomorrow, you avoid the back door. It may have been booby-trapped by...uh...the dog.)
Winter in Wisconsin is a really terrific metaphor for why I've been crap about updating. It snows here just ALWAYS. Every day I shovel myself out and every day my path has disappeared and I have to start over, a little more cold and achy than the day before. Sometimes you're just chipping away at it not knowing if you'll ever get there at ALL - this, for example, was my front yard when I woke up on Wednesday, and I've been trying to reach the fence bit by bit for two days. I don't know what will happen when I get there; probably it will snow again. So, were I a more talented writer, I would point out that this is exactly how the process of writing a book has gone - I continually shovel my way out of the house (submit manuscript) only to get snowed on again (rejection, start over).
Okay, it isn't as bleak as all that. Rejection doesn't make me want to hula naked or anything, but that's why I have some Bailey's in the fridge. I've gotten great feedback, which has given me some good ideas for rewrites. I'm not throwing in the towel or anything. It's just long work, lonely work, and the winter is never-goddamn-ending. And you only have so much in you sometimes; it's like, okay, I can shovel off the driveway every day, because I HAVE TO, but if I'm doing that I'm not going to do the front porch too just for kicks. That's what blogging while also writing a book feels like to me. I'd like to start making this less of an either/or proposition now that the first book is technically done (other than the massive rewriting I'm trying to do) but not while I still have to shovel several hours a day. No, I mean LITERALLY. WISCONSIN, man. I loved it here spring through fall, but FUCK ME.
So I'll be back on the horse shortly, I promise, I just need a little time to dig myself out. In the meantime, I'll be selling bootleg, self-published copies of my Baby-Sitter's Club snarks.* Girl's gotta make a living somehow.
*No, I don't count snarks as blogging because you can write them in your sleep. And I'm positive some of the ghostwriters did, near the end. BSC books snark THEMSELVES.