Someone stole an hour from me this morning....not nice, people...not nice at all *ahem* I guess I better go fix all my clocks now - although some of them are finally right since I never changed them last time daylight savings rolled around LOL
Anyhow, in the midst of all this NaNo0ing, blog posting, revising, rewriting, new writing, critting, making fun swag for my book release, sweating over when my galleys are going to show up, and all the other fun/crazy/sometimes stressful stuff that goes along with being a writer, I got to thinking....
Despite it all, I love being a writer!
Though it definitely comes with its nutbag of occupational hazards.
For instance:
The older I get, the more I find I have to write things down immediately, so there are strange little notes all over my house. Like “break up after the pallbearer fight” (that one prompted my husband to ask if we were splitting up and if so, why would we split over pallbearers) or “100 year old skeletons could still have hair” (which made my poor husband ask if I was hiding a body somewhere that he should know about).
It’s going to take years of therapy to get me over the roller coaster of the writing and revision process…and the querying and submission process…and the publication process and marketing process…and…well, you get the point…
I need a lifetime membership to Weight Watchers since I live off of chocolate and goldfish crackers when writing.
I tend to scare perfect strangers because I can’t stop staring at them and muttering to myself (in my defense, the guy looked EXACTLY like one of the characters in my book, but he had a cool scar on his forehead that I wanted to incorporate and I didn’t want to forget so I was leaving myself a mental note…out loud…’cause that helps me remember :D )
I’m constantly afraid Social Services is going to take my kids away since I haven’t cleaned the house in a month and give them cereal for dinner every night. They DO have clean clothes though…they just have to dig them out of a basket or one of the piles on the couch….
But all in all, the joys of being a writer far outweigh any of the *coughcough* side effects :)
What are some of your occupational hazards? Do the joys of what you do make up for any of the less joyful bits? Do people think you are crazy stalker just because you plan on using their look or personality in your next book? :D