Writing: My (adult) daughter is here for the weekend, which means no work. Yeah, I know. My author bio says three kids at home (or at least implies it), but K has lived in Morgantown for five years now. When I wrote the bio eight years ago, she was still living with us, though. The truth is — I don’t have three kids. I have four. One is my (also adult) stepdaughter who lives near Charleston, WV. My husband was the non-custodial parent so it felt disingenuous to claim four in my author bio. Plus, I suspect the hub’s ex would’ve lost her shit spectacularly so… The point is my daughter’s here, hooray! My attention span isn’t the greatest under the best of circumstances to start with (lingering chemobrain issues) so when she’s here, I don’t even try to work. Is just an exercise in frustration.
Eight years? Have I really been in the game for EIGHT years? That can’t be right, can it? When I think about who was slogging their guts out in the newbie trenches alongside me when I got my start…There aren’t many of us left, honestly. Some are still hanging around social media, but aren’t producing new work. The authors who were BNAs (Big Name Authors) when I started have winnowed down too. It’s a part of the business we authors don’t talk about. Colleagues quit all the time, move on to something else as interests & incomes change. In this Bust market, that is especially true because per book earnings aren’t stellar and every time a colleague leaves, it breaks my heart. You really have to love this business to stay in the game. That’s the key to career longevity, people. It isn’t talent. It’s perseverance. It’s loving the business even when the business doesn’t love you. It’s never giving up. When reviews are lousy, when volume sales are down, when your own freaking mental function betrays you on a daily (chemobrain!), keep going. No special trick to it. Just keep going.
Anyhoo…adventures in plumbing today. Our dishwasher started backing up and all manner of WTFery is now going on in my kitchen. The hubs tried, but no hope for it. We had to call a plumber. I’m already developing a disturbing facial tic at how much that’s going to cost. In the meantime, I predict Chinese takeout in my immediate future because no way I can cook in that mess.
Pokemon Go’s first Community Day is today. My local group is rather large, around 250 players, but I don’t think we’re planning any formal meet-ups. Hubs and I will hit Constitution Park in search of the surf move Pikachu and we’ve both saved evolutions for the double xp window. Probably spend a little time on Washington St, which is a square where the courthouse is in Cumberland that has 4 pokestops close enough to hit sitting in one spot, plus a gym on the corner (plus 3 more other gyms nearby) if you want to stretch your legs. 3 hour lures on all 4 pokestops should wipe out the rest of the balls I stockpiled in Baltimore during my check-in with my breast surgeon a few days ago quite nicely. I’m a level 39 in PoGo, btw. Hubs is level 32 and my older son is level 35. Hoping for a raid or two on kyogre — I’m 0/6 on that bastard so far. Dammit.
Still cro-knitting. I also have a Tunisian entrelac baby afghan in progress and a cocoon sweater too, but I’m mostly cro-knitting/hooking the blanket. Isn’t this painting fabulous? I should definitely try it. Yes, I paint. Poorly, LOL, but I do paint. Poor you if I ever share pics because I’m not joking about how bad I am. I enjoy it, though and that’s a life lesson for you from a woman who faces potential recurrence/spread of breast cancer every stinking day — do what you love. Whether or not you’re good at it is immaterial if you’re having a good time. Truly. You know what’s more powerful than cancer? Regrets. My mission in life, no matter how long or short mine is, is to not have any.