Writing is a lonely business. I commented to my husband the other day that I felt like Anne Boleyn, banished to the Tower of London. He reminded me that poor Anne’s story didn’t end so well (divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived and all that) and maybe I should pick a different analogy.
So now I’m Queen Elizabeth, also banished to the Tower. (I think I just like the Tower of London.) Now I won’t lose my head, but instead I’ll get to be Queen after I get out. Yay for me!
But seriously, I do feel like I’m locked away and someone lost the key. Maybe they swallowed it; I don’t know.
Writing. Revising. Waiting.
Waiting is the hardest part.
Do you ever feel like you’re all alone in this business? What the heck do you do to stay sane?