The Neverending Problem of Being A Reader & A Writer
It sucks.
I hate living so vividly in my own head that sometimes I can't pull myself out of it in order to function in reality. A great example would be this morning when I drove 45 minutes to an appointment at 8 AM that was actually scheduled for 1 PM. Yeah. Oops.
Actually I take that back, I love living vividly in my own head. It's a glorious thing and a wonderful escape. What I dislike about it is when someone else's vision is crowding mine for space - because I'm a reader as well as a writer.
Normally I try not to read fiction at all while I'm writing in order to avoid what I call voice bleeding -accidentally grafting the voice of your read onto your ms - but this week as I recover from eye surgery, I thought it might be safe to read a little with my one good eye and let my own story just stew a bit.
Kind of a mistake. I picked up an ARC of Rosamund Hodge's CRUEL BEAUTY and now it's living in my head, taking up the space that is supposed to be reserved for my WIP. If you follow my Twitter stream you know that my reading lamp went out the other night and I didn't have replacement bulbs, but I wasn't done reading.
So I put on my headlamp.
I'm sure somewhere there's someone who thinks a girl in surgery googles and a headlamp is attractive, and if you find him, let me know. I've got a great selfie for him.