"Okay," I replied, closed down my work on the computer and settled onto the couch with a blanket and my book.
Matt followed me into the living room and proceded to putz around with the entertainment center, closed the blinds, too...
I finished the paragraph I'd been reading and looked up. "Aren't we going to watch a Bluth?"
"You mean now?" he asked with that look in his eyes. [No! Not that one. The blank one.]
"Yeah, come on. I could be writing," I said as he walked by me to go change into some sweats.
"TYPING!" He called out.
I laughed. "That's right. I'm a typer. I've been typing for about 5 years."
Really though, aren't we writers because a long time ago people with a story to tell actually used a pen and paper? They wrote. Well, unless I'm plotting or Keyboardless, I rarely write anymore. I type. I'm a typer. An aspiring Novelist, NOT an aspiring romance writer. LOL Just a thought...
It's Monday. I've reached 38, 252 words. It's like being able to see the end but not wanting to get my hopes up too much, because it's still a lot of work ahead of me.
1. Write at least 2K
2. Crit something
3. Again, Blog
4. Read a book