I'm a pretty avid reader, always have been. Half of our storage unit here is filled with all my books and my two huge book shelves. If I had to guess...it's well over two hundred books, not counting the ones I loaned but were never returned. (huge pet peeve)
Hands down, my favorite author is David Sedaris. The only book I've ever read at least fives times is his book "Naked" and get a kick out of it every single time.
He's much like me and finds humor in every situation, no matter how grim.
That's what I'm talking about.
It's been an adjustment...but am learning to accept and actually enjoy it now. After many battles, Tim has finally come to grips with how much writing means to me, albeit two feet away as he sleeps...having to get up before five AM.
We have three months left in this tiny rental house. Tim's requisite for our forever home is a pool. Mine is an office, surrounded by my books and computer.
I wake up at odd hours in the middle of the night or early morning. Something comes to mind and simply can't dismiss it. I jot it down or save it on my cell in 'Notes'.
It's a given, I have a lot to say...ask anyone who knows me. (no comments please)
But if you aren't true to yourself, what's the point?