F³A: The Fruits of My Labor

Writing. Sometimes it seems so unrewarding. I mean, most people will never see their work published. Of course with the rise of self publishing I supposed that's changed, which has its advantages and drawbacks.

But I digress.

Even those that are published--how many unpublished manuscripts do they have collecting metaphorical dust on their computer. I have at least six.

And when you're published, self or traditionally no matter,  you cannot believe how much work you have to do to market it. I mean, it's not going to sell itself. I've spent so much money and time trying publicize me, Never Eighteen. I'm constantly exhausted.

Sometimes it seems like it's not even worth the trouble.

But it is, isn't it?

Writers don't write for notoriety or money (well most, I mean there are those big names that are now just churning out shit to make a buck. They probably aren't even writing their own books anymore. I'm not naming names).

We write for ourselves. Because it's cheaper than therapy. We write to feel a sense of accomplishment. We write because simply, we love it.  I'm not going to use the cliche that writing is like oxygen,  I'm more about the whole therapy thing. Seriously though, some of us writers can't imagine a life without it.

It's what we do, it's who we are, and every word we write becomes part of us, like a cell or a mole, or an eyelash. Little bits that alone seem like nothing, but when put together become a whole.

Writing completes me.

F³A: Gardening

Okay, first off, I used to hate gardening and yard work.  There were icky bugs, it was tiring, weeds never went away.  Now that I have my own place I'm kind of liking it.  It's good exercise, it makes my house look better, and it's very therapeutic.  

I've been doing it as much as I possibly can, mostly because here in the PNW, you never know what the weather will be like.  Nice days, you better get out and get as much done as you can, because you never know what tomorrow will bring-more likely than not, rain.

Right now my lawn is mowed.  Yesterday I finally learned to use my weed wacker (don't hate on me now).  I have a flower bed full of ocean decor, another one with gnomes.  I have an herb garden out front, which I'm continuing to work on, and veggies in the back, just a few, I don't want it to be overwhelming.  

I also bought a bird bath and feeder and right now I'm watching blue jays hang out in my back yard.  Pretty awesome.

Once I finish my herb garden, and get a few more flowers out back that's it.  I'm done.  Which will probably be the end of our Washington summer anyway.  Perfect timing.

There's only one thing I find as therapeutic as gardening, and that's writing.  I just wish it were better exercise.

Friday Nibbles:

Random iPod shuffle song: Jay Brannan, The Freshmen

Movie of the Week: Red Riding Hood.  Watched it.  Liked it.  Bite me.

Book of the Week: In honor of her birthday today, I'm going with my friend Gae Polisner's book, The Pull of Gravity.  Happy birthday my beautiful friend.(you should all go out and buy it now.  In honor of her birthday and all)

Quote of the Week: "You can bury a lot of troubles digging in the dirt."  ~Author Unknown