It’s Thursday. I’m a writer. This is my life.

I have so far spent my week like this:

  • 28 Hours Editing & Writing Freelance Work
  • 7.5 Hours Emailing
  • 3.5 Hours Noveling
  • 2.5 Hours Short-Storying

In that time, I’ve also:

  • Sent off the promo material for my upcoming erotic collection, “Bound By Lust.”
  • Met with an amazing artist, and then emailed with an equally amazing promoter and one of my favorite editors about a new project.
  • Emailed a writer at least seven times asking for his (overdue) article.
  • Had a conversation with another writer friend, trying to convince my favorite local coffee shop that they should stay open late for NaNoWriMo.
  • Heard a writer friend’s good news. Heard a writer friend’s bad news.
  • Saw the cover for a new collection (see below).
  • Got accepted.
  • Got rejected.
  • Sent out ten invoices. Got paid. Got ignored.
  • Screwed up. Typoed my way through sit. Like the word sit instead of shit. Fixed that shit.

There is a lot of non-writing to being a writer. The writing is the part I love the best. The rest is just the work that needs to be done in order to survive.

It’s not an easy life. I don’t recommend it.

Unless you read the above statement and still said, “Who cares what she says? I want to tell my story.”

Then, welcome to the club, kid. You already know the secret password: Write.

Kiss kiss bang bang, s.