embracing idiocy

While helping Daniel put the kids to bed each Wednesday, before beginning my weekly "writing night," I fight the feeling that all of this writing is idiocy.  I fight the feeling that I should snap out of it, delete the whole manuscript, come back down out of the clouds, and clean the kitchen floor.

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.