This morning is not the world’s greatest morning for a packaged sound bite about writing.  The World Fantasy Awards have been released and nothing that I read and liked won.  There’s a new conflict about how to handle serial sexual harassers in an entertainment industry adjacent to mine–everyone agrees that they should be handled, but the “how” is ripping people apart.  I’m finishing up a project that I love, but for a client that doesn’t treat me with respect and certainly hasn’t built respect into the contract.  I’m poking another client whose book was supposed to be started already, and not getting any response, and might need to scramble to get another ghosting book in place.  I’m struggling to learn how to do ads for my books, as part of my business, a.k.a. “Why are my clients’ projects selling better than mine?  Let’s learn that.”  And it’s not going the greatest.  I still don’t have any reviews on my new release.

And yet I’m showing up and putting the butt in the chair and getting the words done, and they’re not bad words.  So there’s that.

I looked at a meme about someone desperately needing to go on a beachside vacation and thought, “Nah, I’m good.”