Well, it’s August.
How the hell did that happen? I distinctly remember it was January about five minutes ago.
My inspiration’s dried up a bit – no, not dried but iced up. It’s deeply annoying. I think I’ve spent so much time this week mapping out where to go from last year’s NaNoWriMo project (three novels plus a handful of short stories, don’t ask) that I’ve lost ideas for something else. It is very strange to me that this happens. Inspiration isn’t something like nail polish, that runs out when you use too much, surely.
Or is it? I would’ve liked to update my Faux Landlords saga today, but I wasn’t sure where else I could take the story. I want it to be ongoing, I know that much. Maybe I’m adding on too many projects for myself, running up a list of projects like some people run up credit card bills.
I was about to dig into even more personal territory, but I think I’ll reserve that for paper. Anyway, welcome to August.