But will I love them tomorrow?

Got home with the bun and, since she was happily reading her new books, I opened up Scrivener and slammed out another 1000 words, bringing the word count on the WiP (the working title of which changes almost daily, so I’ve stopped changing it and just think of it as “The Space Opera of Space-ness”) to 5900 words.  Which means I have only 2000 words until I meet the Viable Paradise submission limit.  

The funny, or maybe even ironic, thing is that after talking with my wife, I decided not to apply to Viable Paradise this year.  I’d love to do it, but the money is just not there–with me staring down the barrel of being laid off, and my wife’s job situation iffy (she’s a contractor and her contract is up in August with no hint of whether or not it will be renewed), and our daughter’s new school tuition being higher than we’d expected to pay, all added to our desire to kill off our credit card and home improvement loan debts, means I should probably wait.   I’ll keep writing, and if I finish the book before then, I’ll start trying to sell it if I can or continue to write other things if I can’t.  

All in all, not bad.  I may write more tonight; I may just sleep.  Not sure yet which will make me feel best. 

Published by Michael R. Johnston

Father of an eighth grader, high school English teacher, writer. Fifty years old and feeling almost every bit of it on some days, and not a bit of it on others. Based in Sacramento, California, USA

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.