My blog writing has been so monumentally terrible this year (and these past few months non-existent) because I simply haven't had anything to write about. Or, I should say, anything interesting.
This isn't to say that nothing's been happening in my world of writing - I'm still working on it every day, plugging away at book 3 of my Hide and See series (I'm currently on Chapter 27). But it's just more of the same, and the last thing I want is for those poor unfortunate souls who actually read this mess of a blog to be bored out of their minds. Any more than they already are, I mean.
So why am I updating now? Well, there's the crushing weight of personal shame that I've been so shoddy with this supposedly-regular-blog-which-will-be-important-should-a-legitimate-writing-career-materialise, that only gets worse the longer I leave it.
I don't actually have anything new to report. Yet. You see, I'm hoping in the coming months that there might be, even if it's the horrifying self-recrimination that inevitably follows rejection.
That's right, people: I'm going to be writing to agents this summer.
Or that's the plan, anyway. I need to achieve something this year, even if it involves tearing out my heart and stomping it into teeny tiny pieces.
Wish me luck - I think I'm going to need a hefty dose of it.