I have a problem.
Well, not a problem so much as a small issue. I can’t do nothing. I am completely incapable of just sitting. It’s not that I don’t find merit in spending time relaxing, but relaxing is more taxing for me than doing something.
Reading, playing chess, making a to-do list, those are all great things to do when I’m meant to be relaxing. But if I sit, just sit, my mind is anything but relaxed. It’s mostly author brain these days, planning scenes for the sequel of a book that hasn’t been picked up by a publisher. Or coming up with scathingly brilliant ideas for another series even though I know full well if I try to start writing another series right now my agent and my husband might team up to murder me. (Note from husband: …yep.)
So when I’m waiting to get pages back, like now, and I’ve finished my social media-ing, like now, I start to panic.
I shouldn’t be reading a book. I should be working. I have no more housework to do, since I’m literally waiting for paint to dry. The dishes in the dishwasher are too hot to be put away….
So, I’m panic-blogging while pretending that I’m not figuring out a short story to go along with The Tale if Bryant Adams.
But it’s okay because Lola needs a short story, right?
So maybe I can sneak over to a new file and do that. No one will notice…right?