How Not to Write

OK so I know I was all stoked about writing a book in a month. I did a good job on the first day and was all "man, I bet I could write about TWO novels in 30 days!".

But then Jelly got into school. There were uniforms and track suits and books to buy. One more lunch to pack in the morning. One more kid to rouse out of bed at 7am GMT and nag until 8:20am GMT.

And Helly got headlice. Fancy Irish ones that were equipped with tin whistles and danced jigs as they gave you the finger and dare you to come at them with a louse comb. Luckily, there is not FDA or EPA here and you can put Malathion* on your kids head for twelve hours and napalm the little bastards just like Apocalypse Now. That will teach little parasitic insects not to live on my baby (or give me the finger).

Then I went to the Knitting and Embroidery Fair and picked up some sweet projects to cross stitch.

So lets just face it. I am an essayist. I have the attention span to write passionately for about 2 hours. Then I lose interest and move on to something else. Perhaps one day I'll have a collected essays published. Then I shall sit at a desk and you can line up and I'll sign a book for you. Rawk

(*I didn't buy the 12 hour Malathion treatment, though that is the one the pharmacist recommended. I ended up doing a 10 minute poison conditioning treatment and hand combing the bugs out. One word: shudder.)

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