The writing for today began with a "catch more flies with honey" letter to someone I barely know, but I do that so well that it made no sense not to. Then there was the continual referral out and out and out (divorce? No I don't do that. Real estate? No, not taking new cases in that area right now. Class action? Puhlease. I work alone! And I can't decide why I haven't called Martindale to cancel my listing. Only takes so many months of paying before I finally figure out, I am not going to do it anymore. I just don't want to. Until I get that call that makes me plummet back into a world of justice and loopholes and neg-o-shee-a-shun…. And the words roll out of my mouth and off my fingers like warm honey and before I know it I'm committed again.
"Outsourcing" is the forbidden fruit this week. A concept, a method of doing business. I do hate to get behind. I get to learn the inside secrets on Thursday.
Add three more books to my reading list today, Wide Sargasso Sea, Feast of Love, which I own, and Dogs of Babel. Why is it that when I am really into writing, everyone wants me to stop and read? It isn't like I don't read. It isn't like I don't read a nice variety… I think it is the ultimate in literary snobbery… "I've read such and such and I know it will change your life if you read it too"… yet who can read them all? I'd be happy right now if I had read just the ones I've bought. I'm such a slut when it comes to books.
I'm about ready to go public with my blog again.
Not really, just thought I'd type that and see how it felt.
Every once in a while you meet someone and you know, just know that person is going to make a difference in your life somehow. Not talking about that buzz you get when you are attracted to someone in a primal manner, but that sense you get when you make eye contact and you know you are speaking the same language. It’s a rare thing.
I had a friend tell me today that he wanted to branch out, write about people instead of things.
Why would you want to write about anything else, I wonder?
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