I have the feeling that the writing and the marketing of the writing are not actually the problem, that the problem is a million and one other things going on all at once. But the writing and the marketing of the writing are certainly not helping right now. I'm thinking of going and living in a cave. A cave with central heating and internet connectivity and regular access to the people I want to see and also deliveries from Byerly's. Hmm. Perhaps I am not cut out for this anchoress business after all and should just shut up and write my books.
I've got "finish notecards" on my list for this week. We'll see if coming out of revisions (at least for a bit, until my alpha readers tell me what hideous things I did to mangle my poor book) helps.
markgritter and I have tickets to "The Gondoliers" tonight, and we're eating at Kieran's first (chaaaaaammmmmmmmmp! and Guinness gravy!), and tomorrow we get to see porphyrin and Mike and Roo. And can an auntie maintain a funk in the face of the Roo? Well, maybe; but I don't intend to.