Yes, yes, yes, I complain about being busy too much. I actually listened to myself the other day and thought "oh, no, I am one of those people..." I envisioned myself with a long-neck cigarette saying "Darling, we simply MUST do lunch, if I could ever find the time, so swamped, you know how it is..." And I laughed at myself, both for complaining, and then for envisioning myself as an F. Scott Fitzgerald character without even intending to. But, I am enjoying something delightful at the moment, something: a lazy Sunday. I woke up hours before everyone else (one of the perks to not being able to sleep past 7:30 a.m.... EVER), made coffee, caught up on emails. I'm putting in a movie, opening up the file for book #3, and writing, writing, writing as soon as I hit "post" here. And then a nap... then I might bake...
My complaints about being busy stem from not enough lazy Sundays. I had a great and brief conversation with fellow author Jessica Bell (check out her blog at http://thealliterativeallomorph.blogspot.com/) about this this week-- when you're a writer, you can always be writing, or promoting, or writing, or promoting, which makes it hard to accept the need for sleeping or relaxing.

