This is Heather Burnell, reporting to you live from my frosty bedroom where the temperature is a brain-numbing 22 degrees fahrenheit. Why would a person choose to work in an icy-cold bedroom instead of by the toasty fire? Because they are dedicated to their craft, of course, and I find the bedroom to be the best place for me to think. So what am I thinking?
Why does my bed desk not come with a drink holder? It's really quite unsafe to have my drink precariously perched next to my laptop on the soft, unstable surface of my bed.
Did you know that a book is a lethal weapon? A 500-page one is anyway. Book to throat--not a good thing.
Why, when I have a night to work, is my three-year-old not at all sleepy even though it's way past his bedtime?
Why have I had to write thirty different versions of my query letter before I finally, maybe, get it right? I've had the Frog and Toad meets Toy Story part for ages. It's the writing the rest of the letter that's giving me trouble.
Why don't I submit more stories? I know the answer to this one already; because I have to make a choice between subbing or writing with the time that I have. And I will choose writing, at least until I get too irritated with myself and have to get something out. I have two somethings out right now. It's not nearly enough.
Why am I blogging? I should be working.