The story updates have been slow-going. I’ve written pages and pages and I can’t wait to share it with you. Sometimes I dream I already have. I’m behind on rewrites (is the thing).
I’ve been operating in Survival Mode this past week, though I’m not unhappy. My housing situation has taken a turn (is the thing). I’m scrambling to find a place to live, but this requires a prequisite scramble to find a permanent job. Preferably one with health insurance, since Dr. Google has diagnosed me with various rare tropical diseases and I’d like a second opinion.
The truth is that it’s a bit late for this. The truth is that I probably should have been scrambling, oh I don’t know, fourteen months ago. But the truth is that I’ve been too busy writing to notice silly things like ‘not getting a paycheck’ or ‘living in a prewar, precondemned, rat-infested firetrap of a nightmare’.
You know: silly things.
And the truth is that I’m thankful there are people in this world who care more about making art than making rent. Just as I’m thankful for those who care more about making rent than making art.