Between last Friday and this coming Saturday I am speaking five times. I'm not sure how this happened except that when I said yes to each of these things it sounded like it was far away and I apparently was overestimating my own abilities. Nevertheless I am committed... or I should be committed, one of the two.
So I will be kind of quiet this week, using all my words to share with the writers and women who have invited me to do so. It is an honor, to be sure. But it's also not something I do all that much anymore. I've gotten quite used to hiding out in my house, writing and puttering around. My husband says I'm about three steps away from becoming a complete hermit. He's not altogether wrong. I've had this conversation with several of my writer friends, who concur that large amounts of time spent alone and isolated comes with the gig. And the more you do it, the more you want it. I've heard more than one writer comment that the solitude gene seems to come with the writing gene. If you didn't have it, you couldn't spend the time you need alone, with only your characters for company.
The thing about your characters is they stay where you put them and do what you tell them. (Mostly.) What's not to love about that? (Yes, I am continuing to work on my control issues...)
Tomorrow I'm posting over at Southern Belle View about my favorite vacation spot. I'll give you two guesses what place I chose. And the first one doesn't count!