You know that movie with the guy that writes in the cabin and loses his shit—actually come to think of it there are a few. My novel is set partly in Des Moines, so I’m down here beating the shit out of my laptop in a hotel room over looking a highway.
The glamour of it all is too much to bare.
I’m cut off from the world, except of course for my iPad, laptop, phone, and flare gun.
Yesterday the drive and then 12 thousand words deep into the night, today I’m starting with two goals: get a mouse thingy, and a new bottle of scotch, but I may switch to whisky, come to think of it maybe red wine…so many choices.
I’m told dinner at the 501 Steakhouse is fun, but that depends on how well that there darn written’ goes.
If you are wondering, or have ever wondered what 12 thousand words feels like writing in one sit down, I can share only the result.
Several entertaining people have just had a party in my brain, a drag down, all out gin and juice occasion, from which I woke up on the couch to discover my head had been below my body for hours, blood had pooled, consequently one eye now seems to work better than it ever has, while the other has a micro headache behind it, that is somewhat reminiscent of a party I barely remember from the early 90′s-hold the phones-it’s all coming back to me…apologies to those involved.
I heard AZ is wondering if blogs are dead. This one has never been more well read, go figure…