So it has been a crazy, crappy, wonderful, topsy-turvy, high and low week. Here's the recap.
Monday, an hour after my last post, I got a call that one of my close family members was admitted to the hospital with some serious ailments. Some of which he had been treated successfully for in the past, but one was new. I decided I wasn't going to the retreat because The Man wanted to be helpful, and wouldn't be as effective if I left. So I decided responsibilities could shift to me, and he'd be free to do what he needed to do. But The Man wasn't having it. He told me to wait and see. Which, I have to admit, was prudent.
The family member slowly improved, and it looked like other members of the family were stepping up to help out so it all didn't fall on The Man's shoulders, which was great.
Bottom line, I went, but with reservations. I was worried about the one in the hospital and how The Man and family were holding up. So I was very distracted.
And also there was the guilt. I'm good at guilt. I can manufacture guilt out of thin air. I'd win more gold medals in the Guilt Olympics than Michael Phelps. I am the Michael Phelps of the Guilt Olympics. (Where are my endorsements?)
So needless to say, I didn't get as much writing done as I really wanted to.
I did paint my nails. For the first time in about ten years. Andrew Grey, who just joined the writing group and attended the retreat said my toenails looked like a demented three year old had painted them. So, I guess I'm a little out of practice. Maybe I'll take a picture of them and let you all decide.
I'm on another CPRW author's blog from the retreat, doing a video diary comparing hair, but you actually get to see my face, so I'm not telling which author it is. Vicki, Sue and Natalie will know, but no telling girls! Natalie was in it too, briefly sniffing my hair.
I made small amounts of progress on three different WIPs. I just couldn't settle down and get to business since I was worried about the home front. The other ladies' word counts were very impressive. Mine . . . not so much. I only wrote a total of a little over 5,000 words from Thursday night to Sunday morning. I also worked on some editing, completing some second round, light edits on about twenty to twenty-five pages of material from the same three WIPs.
So, progress was made. I had some good fun. And laughed like crazy Saturday night. All in all, it was a moderately successful retreat as far as the writing was concerned, but on a personal level - it was a blast. Much better than a jail term masquerading as a spa getaway. And this way, I didn't have to make anyone my bitch.
The Little Engine That Could
12 hours ago