I haven't done much lately, except sit in front of my laptop and my binders. Pencils and headphones and Diet Coke all around me.
I've been trying to finish something I started two years ago.
I am still far from done. Editing will take weeks yet, but the first total rewrite is finished.
It has been a huge project. I set it down and got busy. I made excuses. I started and stopped. I lost all the work I had done. I started again.
In some ways, it was like reading a book I didn't remember. In some parts I could finish the sentences without even looking at the original.
Most of the hard part of doing it was convincing myself it would be worth it.
I don't think it will be any amazing literary masterpiece lasting lifetimes and beyond. I do think it will sell alright for a while and maybe give me a little spending money, or maybe a little at least a little something to stand on when I offer up weakly my answer to the ever popular question, "What do you do for a living?"
Maybe I'll have a little street cred someday soon when I say, writer, author.
Maybe someday soon, it'll be real.