|My three bathing beauties- DD, RH, SI|
Not exactly, obviously, as you're seeing this post. But as close as it's possible to get in the continental United States. Of that I'm pretty sure.
I am at Guppy Lake, writing like a fiend well into the dead of night.
You see, lovely readers, as I've mentioned before... I'm working on a book.
Not the ebook that can be yours for any donation to my BlogHer fund (see the button at the top right of the page? Go click it and buy yourself an ebook!) No, I'm writing a bigger, badder, bolder book. One that I'm sure all of you will immediately run out and buy, and then read in one sitting, while spooning apple sauce into the ears of your screaming infants and hiding in bathrooms with small children banging on the door. And then you will buy copies for all your friends, recommend it for your book clubs, and generally make Amazon explode with joy for selling it.
We'll get there. Together.
In the process of writing this book, I have found that I really need time to work. And one does not simply sit down and finish writing a book when one has three children with a total aggregated age of seven years old. No, it takes a village to write a book.
So, as I've previously mentioned, money's a little tight. And that's okay- nobody thinks to themselves that a career as a writer is going to be the money making machine that an MBA might, so pinching pennies isn't the biggest deal in the world.
And that, lovely readers, is why I'm here.
In what might actually be the literal middle of nowhere.
|The kids on the dock, last year|
This year the water is about two and a half feet higher
I am in the middle of the woods, sitting in what is probably a hundred year old cabin with a seventy year old bedroom and an unfinished seven year old bathroom complex, overlooking a body of water that only qualifies as a lake because of the outrageous rainfall.
I'm missing out on a ton of fun here, folks. Poppa taking the kids on paddle boat rides, soaks in the Jacuzzi, experiments with a potato cannon... Mostly, I'm sitting in a non-air conditioned room with windows that don't open and a ceiling fan older than I am, holding a scalding hot laptop on... well... my lap.
And I could not be more grateful to the wonderful people who are allowing this to happen.
|Fourth of July cookout, chillaxing on Grandmommy and Poppa's deck- |
where I can get WiFi and write but also get a million mosquito bites
And if you're feeling so inclined, PLEASE donate to the BlogHer fund! Help me hobnob with publishers, agents, and the momerati of the blogosphere. Help me not only finish this book, but sell the hell out of it.
Thank you, and a belated Happy Fourth,
aka Becoming SuperMommy