Mamarati

Because if I don’t, I’m going to…

I don’t know what.

I’ve gotten another inquiry from a literary agent about some publisher who wants me to write a book on … that stuff I do for work.

And this time, though I did hesitate briefly, I said, OK… tell me what the possible topic is, etc. and if it’s right then I will do it.

Now I am freaking out, of course. I don’t have a book in me. I mean… work has sucked all the words out of me, I fear.

Look how infrequently I write here now and I used to be one of those thrice daily bloggers. diarists. journalers. whatever. Remember when we were all just writing diaries? Now it’s blog this, blog that. As if it’s something new and amazing.

Kinda cracks me up.

Anyway, I have to find a routine. Because if I do end up writing a book, I’m going to have to be a lot more disciplined than I am now. And I’m going to have to make sure I manage all the little irons I have going in the fire.

Or I will fail.

And I am not a big fan of that whole failure thing…