The kitchen sink

I'm thinking back to when I started blogging and how conscientious I was about posting regularly, leaving comments on other blogs, and lord. I do so suck now.

But you know what I'm doing? I'm writing a book. For really and truly. And it's kind of awesome. (Not the book, necessarily, but the writing of it.)

What will become of it? Who knows. Does it matter? All I know is this: That feeling I've had for the past 10 years, that feeling like you get when you leave for vacation and you think, "Crap. Did I leave the stove on? I bet I left the stove on. No, not the stove. What then? What did I not do? What what what?"

It's gone.

We're staying afloat so far with the freelancing, which is just fine, considering that it's only 6 months in and that I'm pretty much supporting four people with only a fairly modest amount of child support. I've had a few pieces published here and there. I have picked up several writing jobs and some new editing clients. I may have an opportunity to return to full-time work, and I may take it, but who knows?

I haven't been very good about writing here, because I'm writing not here. And I'm trying to decide how to handle the necessity of blogging as a writer. Do I disappear and suddenly pop up somewhere else, living out my bloggy life under a new name, like a virtual Elvis? With less sparkle, of course. Do I manage two blogs? Should I point from here to things I'm writing (which as of now are also under pseudonyms so wouldn't likely threaten my anonymity, but would make it likely that people could trail back here)?

So these are the things I think about, and then I think about the stack of editing waiting for me and that damned first draft that is waiting to be finished. And I wonder how everyone is and I try to catch up reading a few blogs but don't have time to leave comments or write here and that's a little bit of what's happening and why things are quiet.

Just so you know.