Confessions of an Author with Nothing Interesting to Say
My characters have more interesting lives than I do right now, but I'm okay with that. Life goes through seasons, and in the season of winter, sometimes I just want to hibernate.
I think a lot of authors are facing writer's block through the pandemic. As I waited for over a year to write the novel I'm writing now, I am loving the chance to finally put my characters on the page, but obviously my blog game is suffering.
In these quiet times, I reassess. Am I making the right choices spiritually, socially, physically, financially, career-wise? Once I come to some conclusions, I might have more to say.
I know I could be a lot worse off. I've been worse off. Lots of people out there are worse off than I am. What do I truly have to offer to help the worse off people? Perhaps they have more to offer me. I'm no "savior," and we're just all in this together.
The sky is gray outside. I think I'm solar powered.
My dogs yip and lick too much. Anybody want them?
Here's a really good Whole30 spinach artichoke dip recipe that I made last night. It seems weird at first because you have to soak cashews and grind them in the blender, but your family will never know that you didn't use sour cream and cheese.
I'm getting my hair cut and colored on Wednesday, and I'm also getting glasses. I might need another new author pic soon. My looks seem to change so much lately that you guys would never recognize me in person.
Sometimes I tire of having to have a "platform" to sell Christian books. Combining business and ministry is a real trick. Once I worked at a mission in inner city San Francisco where I painted a gay guy's fingernails. He'd been shot in the hand during a Pride parade. In that moment I had so much love for him, nothing else mattered. Not my name, not my brand, not my status on social media. He was the VIP. I think about that moment a lot.
Do you have any uninteresting confessions to make?