You bored yourself silly while outlining your memoir.
Wisely, you will pull the plug.
[No one deserves to see your prom photos. Really? Powder blue with ruffles?]
Branching out with my writing
You bored yourself silly while outlining your memoir.
Wisely, you will pull the plug.
[No one deserves to see your prom photos. Really? Powder blue with ruffles?]

Your self-published ‘Anonymity is for Nobodies’ will vault you to popular acclaim and raise you out of a comfortable obscurity.
Your protagonist Dwayne has been a pin-cushion lately.
It’s time for him to rebel against his office doubling as a cleaning supply closet at ‘Serfs-On-Call’’. Scrawl out ‘WHAT WOULD YOU DO???’ on the nearest Big Mac wrapper, slap it on the wall, take off your pulse monitor, and picture Dwayne.
Feel the burn…you’ve been dissed one too many times…yes, that’s clumsy Art with the plumber’s crack bursting in for a mop replacement and you find yourself engulfed in rolls of bathroom tissue…there you go, now reach for that keyboard.
Hint: Stay off the ledge. You’re only on Chapter 10.
Tread lightly.
Don’t let ‘What should I be doing with my life?’ devolve into a sniping session that spews the age-old, ‘Shouldn’t you chisel the cheese encrusted from your front burner?’ or ‘Did the dogs get their hourly dose of love, affection, and Beggin’ Strips?’ or–the most hurtful of all–’Are you gonna wear that today?’.
Loved ones will block your progress.
Stand your ground.
Let them know that your work comes first and that guilt trips are counterproductive.
Then go ahead, drop everything, and yield to their every demand.
Today? Face reality.
It’s nitty-gritty time in the writer’s workroom.
Yesterday’s [July 25] noble effort to ‘simplify’ has, of course, complicated things.
You’ve discovered a wealth of vivid characterization, intriguing plot points, and cogent, logical outlining…in freehand.
Time to digitize. Yes, type.
Fire up the Ninja Coffee Bar, cue up your ‘Gettin’ Stuff Done’ playlist, and launch into a keyboarding trance.
See you on the other side.
A day to simplify.

Those cheap notebooks [July 24]? Boon can morph into bane.
You’ve been forced to reassemble your Pulitzer Prize winner from a jigsaw puzzle of those 70-count darling-demons.
No virtual assistant can save you from this.
Leap toward opportunity.
The siren’s song of 18-cent notebooks should send you straight to the back-to-school sales. [No worries about dodging kids. Frantic moms, on the other hand…]
Rise above regret today.
That cheese dust from the forbidden Cheetos [July 21] is gumming up your keyboard.

Go old school. Whip out a sharpened Ticonderoga #2 and a tablet and finish that chapter.
photo copyright Christopher Paulin
An exploration of a new genre is courageous, yet treacherous.

Your rhyming picture book on the merits of gratitude? Well, your writing group wasn’t grateful.
Forge ahead, but skip the couplets.
Leave the lame verse for the celebrities.