Happy Thanksgiving to all! That said, I have to tell you that since I’m in the service industry, I work every Thanksgiving. So today, black Friday, is my day to celebrate. Oh it’ll be a hoot. Got the family coming over, got friends of the kids stopping by, got lots of food and drink. By the time most of you read this I’m going to be knee-deep in overindulgence. But for now, I must write. This post is only the beginning of about two hours I’ve set aside this morning to rewrite a novel I finished about six months back. It’s a literary about a group of drugged-out teens. Some of you might say, “But it’s pseudo-Thanksgiving, just take the day off.” I only wish I could. Writing for me is an addiction no different than drinking or smoking. I must do it every day! Steven King once said that he writes all year except for on his birthday. But then he later reflected that it was a lie. He wrote even on his birthday. He never took a day off. I’m like that, and I’m sure a lot of you are, too. I think that’s what separates the people who dream of writing a novel and those who actually do. As I anticipate the craziness that’s about to ensue in my household, I hear stirrings upstairs… the kids are waking. Time to start the rewrite so I can become a social creature later on.
On a side note, I just checked my sales. I sold six books last night! Happy shopping!