Though I kept a paper journal for nearly ten years, it was never a diary. I’ve never been very successful writing about myself. Well, writing about non-thinly-veiled aspects of myself. So, an online journal, and on Tumblr, because over the last three years, it’s the one constant. It’s the platform I’ve loved the most, and I’ve tried them all.
The goal is most days, just open the window and write something about my day.
Today, I had to return a book to the Kwantlen library. I’m reading, simultaneously, the Nureyev bio and my first Nora Roberts. What I’ve realised about romance novels is that they fit very nicely in your bag for reading on the bus, but at the same time, there’s not wanting to be that girl reading a romance novel on the bus. I’m trying not to care.
Tomorrow, I get everything sent out for submission, and I hope I can finish Balletomane, too. Then start on the Christmas story, poke at Hiatus to turn it into a novel, and brainstorm an idea for submission to a print publisher. Maybe Modern Girls because the whole point of this venture is to make romance novels better, not to “save” my best ideas for something else. This is the something else. This is something I can do.