funnygirl
Scrivener

I'm back cooking . . . I don't know how sad I am about it. What I do know is between work, toddler, hubby, house and mental yet loveable family, my writing has once again dropped to the bottom of the must-do list. Sometimes I feel like I'm never going to make something of myself. I feel like I'm going to be cooking meals for other people that I can't afford to eat myself for the rest of my life Just having a low moment. Blah.

A long, lost friend and Jack Daniels. Days of fun and catching up. Now I'm behind. I can't seem to catch up. I can't seem to write anything. :/

I've carved up my novel.
30,000 lovingly crafted words in the bin. It had to be done.
SIGH.
Massive re-write time

I'm contemplating spending hours perfecting a choreographed lip syncing, dance rountine to Celine Dion songs.
Then taking it on tour.
It seems a better use of my time then writing this novel. God I suck. Oh yeah I’m crap at writing too.
See even my jokes are wearing thin.
So thin you can see through them.
You can see my crapness.
I'm ranting, I'm most brilliant when I rant, and I'm an absolute freaking genius when I'm hitting the bottle.
Maybe a

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