Darling Hubby says I should make as much moola as him... and that I better get writing. So here I am. Surfing the web. Reading other blogs. NOT doing the solitary work that real writers do. (Stephen King wouldn't have billions of copies in print if he blogged. Nope, he sits with his keyboard on his knees in some little cramped, martyrish space and horrifies himself and everyone else. .. or at least he used to. ) I write... but it isn't stories and isn't for publication. How can I call myself a writer?
I did go on vacation. So maybe I'm a VACATIONER. I understand there's Lotus Land in California, too. Maybe indoors in Massachusetts.
No comments:
Post a Comment