Jumbled Head

I leave for the plane Saturday. Writing workshop awaits. So much to do, so much to do, so much to . . . Having a hard time thinking straight. Thoughts jumbled up in there include:

How I’m loving my new website design. Which isn’t my design—it’s e‘s design. And he sort of didn’t plan on designing it that way, I just said I wanted something more “noirish” and “cinematic” and was having trouble describing it in actual physical details, then saw his website and said “Could I have that?” and, well, let’s just say he was kind enough to let me steal it.

How I want chocolate.

How it occurred to me today that I rub people the wrong way. Or in some other way annoy them. But no one ever tells me how or why, so I’m left guessing.

How I have all those workshop stories to comment on and I’m really behind and I can’t do them on the plane because I plan on sleeping.

Packing: socks?

Packing: how many shirts is too many shirts for a week plus one day?

How I have to finish my outline and send it to my awesome editor, now forever known as AE.

How my outline really is almost finished, I’m just taking my time reading through it, though I don’t exactly have the time to be doing that, but you can’t rush me when I’m writing, you just can’t.

How I’ve written more of a rough draft and less of an outline, but whatever.

How I’d like to change my life irrevocably by March 31. (March 31 = the day our lease is up.)

How I want chocolate.

How e probably wants to figure out a whole new website for himself now and I probably shouldn’t have stolen his.

How I’m selfish. (Case in point: The conversation we were having when he was walking out the door and the moment in which I spread my arms wide and said, “But that could save my life!” Why my life only and not his?)

How I should dye my hair tonight but you know what maybe I’ll do it tomorrow.

How I want chocolate.

Packing: sunscreen? lotion? do we have enough soap?

How I want chocolate.

How I need more time to write. Much more time to write.

How I won’t get it. How I should not, then, turn on the TV. How I should do this thing and that thing and pack the socks and do the dishes and where’s the iron and I must do my workshop comments and I’m starving and where’s dinner and oh right I didn’t order it yet and, of course . . .

How I want chocolate, the great reoccurring theme of my life.


  1. have a GREAT time where you are going–another one of my terrific writing friends will be there too!

    and for the record, you have NEVER rubbed me the wrong way. you are awesome!

  2. E’s design is GREAT. Love love love the look of the site. Very sleek, cinematic and nice to look at and and and not at the expense of navagational ease (yay!!). Awesome.

    Have a safe flight and a great time!

  3. Whether you bring socks or not, be sure to have a great time! (I’m sure you will — a whole week to work on writing sounds fabulous.)

  4. I also want to send you chocolate…hrm…

    I hope that some of this stress melts away when your plane lands and that you get in a good productive workshop.

    You have already changed my life irrevocably.

  5. Thank you, all! I’m heading out soon. And I sent the outline to my editor this morning so it is now in her hands, and my nerves at the thought of her reading it are off the charts! I think I’m more anxious about that than even the workshop.

    I think e should build websites for more writers. It’s not fair that I’m the only one to benefit…!

  6. I want details on the workshop! Sounds great fabulous briliiant wonderful and just like what the doctor ordered and I wish I had a workshop to go to also…

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