Instead, yesterday was a day where I:
- Worked the Day Jobbe
- Lunched with my parents to discuss my (step)mother's recent important medical news
- Helped my injured friend do some important shopping for their art studio
- Picked up
seanan_mcguireat the airport
the_childfor the first time in two weeks
- Had dinner with
the_child, seanan_mcguire, lillypond(a/k/a my sister) and mlerules
the_childand seanan_mcguireto Voodoo Doughnut and to Powell's City of Books, where we signed stock and bought lots of books
None of that seems like a poor use of my time. Some of it was quite important. Almost all of it was fun.
But I did not write.
The guilt of doing anything else is part of being a writer, at least for me.