If you ask me how my writing is going, I will tell you the book is currently stuck in the third paragraph of chapter 4 but this morning I thought of a way to skip the boring (good novels are life without the boring parts, Elmore Leonard says), so at least I have my heading. I swear if I can get myself out of this chapter, I can do anything.
He’s really beautiful, we love him, and also none of our lives will ever be the same ever again. He’s an inside dog. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Inside dogs are life-changing. I spent the first days googling, “I don’t think I like my dog” in search of support groups or confirmation that eventually you can’t imagine never having one. It felt a lot like having a baby only now all
If you’ve known me more than a minute, you know I’ve experienced day jobs a very specific way. I thought it was simpler than it was: I thought no matter the job I would deep-down hate it because it wasn’t singing or acting or writing. I basically feel (still present-tense) no job could fully replace my wish to be an artist. I don’t even care if I’m a no-name in