I should have delayed my bipolar Treehugger post a little, to catch this headline pairing: “More Polar Bears Turn to Cannibalism” followed immediately by “Designer Creates Lush, Flower-Inspired Dress out of 4,000 Teabags.” Seriously, I don’t know if I can keep reading this site. I hate roller coasters.
I thought that I had finished buying presents for my children, but then I read about these two Lemony Snicket books on Motherreader: The Latke Who Couldn’t Stop Screaming and The Lump of Coal. I may have to go back to Kidsbooks, and the staff there is already starting to wonder whether I’m some homeless woman camping out between the shelves.
I think that for most writers, there comes a point in the holiday season when — however much they love the celebrations — they’re ready for a little more alone time and writing routine. Is December 9th too early to have hit that point?
Scroll through this post and check out how beautifully my friend Brandy (okay, she’s kind of my sister’s friend, but I’ve co-opted her) wraps gifts. I am in awe.
I think I may have finally hit on my ideal writing process. Complete three chapters and then outline. I have a voice, I have characters, I have problems… suddenly, an outline doesn’t seem so excruciatingly boring. If only I had time to write said outline. See random thought #3.
I’m off to make gingersnaps for the school bake sale now. Again, see #3.