But then Daniel reminds me that many - or perhaps most - people my age are watching TV on Wednesday evenings and feel no less connected to reality, nor any less productive, for it. I might be engrossed in a fantasy land while writing fiction, but as least I will have a finished product in the end.
So I continue to embrace the idiocy of novel-writing. I am now at over 74,000 words, with only a chapter and a half left to compose. The end is so near I can smell it.
(Just don't mention the submission/rejection stage that waits for me downstream like a raging waterfall promising to dash me against the rocks. If you mention it, I'll cry).
|Rooftop novel-writing in East Asia.|