I am obsessed. I would rather tie myself into a pretzel while sweating to death than blog, eat, write, bathe my children, cook, clean, and read.
I love it. I love how gross it is. I love how all my clothes fit me. I love how much less my back hurts. I love how I can finally do that thing with my foot that I couldn't do two months ago. (see picture)
Love. It.
And I'm not even that guilty about it.
L. K. Madigan passed away this week. She was a YA writer and a wise women. She had a brief and horrible fight with pancreatic cancer. This is her advice to writers, aspiring or otherwise:
“The main thing is to WRITE. Some days it might be 2000 words. Some days you might tinker with two sentences until you get them just right. Both days belong in the writing life. Some days you may watch a ‘Doctor Who’ marathon or become immersed a book that is so good you can’t stop reading. Some days you may be in love or in mourning. Those days belong in the writing life, too. Live them without guilt.”
And so up yours guilt. I'm through with you.
