Humdrums

by Joni Abilene

I’m feeling very out-of-sorts today and don’t know why. Really. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the afterglow of Thanksgiving. All that work . . . and then. Nothing. Or maybe it’s the weather. So unpredictable. I like things that repeat. Maybe it’s that I’ve had a little bit of wine the last few nights, and I hardly ever drink anymore. You really do pay for that buzz. So, I don’t know. It’s probably all of that.

Got stories out. Still working on that book. One thing about being a writer is it’s so darn lonely sometimes. You know? You literally pour your heart onto the page and then have to wait months for an acceptance, but it’s usually a rejection. And all around you people are tweeting and retweeting each others’ work, their readings and releases. It can be overwhelming at times. And like I said, lonely.

The cure to anything is work. Lots and lots of work. Here I go . . .

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