The Race is On!!!

My wife, the buxom and callipygian Boudica, has started her own writing project. She's been formulating ideas for some time in that sweet, little redheaded mind of hers, and now she's committing some of them to paper. After extensive research (this is where she differs from me, because I sit down and start puking words onto the screen), she started typing things up over the weekend. I'm not sure how far she is or what her goals are on length and whatnot (she won't let me read it or look at it, which is understandable, because I'm the same way), but she's writing.

So, now it's a race to see who can get their books out first. Me, who is done but is simply proofreading and preparing to send it off soon, or her, who has just started. My money is on the buxom and comely Boudica.

See, it's not that I don't want to complete this and get it out for the world to read and fall in love with. It's more like I want to do other things (although I did read a couple of chapters last night that I felt were really done quite well, if I do say so myself). Recently, I watched the first half of An Evening with Kevin Smith 2: Evening Harder, and in the very first little stint, he addresses the whole notion of writer's block and whatnot, except he claims to suffer from "writer's-laise" (or perhaps "writer's-laze"...I'm unsure which) where he would prefer to be entertained from time to time rather than do the entertaining. I'm the same way (except I haven't really entertained anyone yet, improv sketches aside, and even that's debatable). I'd much rather sit down and watch a marathon of Dirty Jobs where I can laugh, giggle, get disgusted and then thank God I went off to grad school so I could avoid having to do a lot of the shit work that most people in this country suffer through on a daily basis (and my hat's off to you, you dirty, dirty folk).

The same issues continue to hound me from before: I know how this story ends, so it's kind of tough to get into the tale. However, last night, like I said, I did read some stuff, and it was enjoyable. I really liked what I read. That might sound pretentious and self-righteous, but I was reading a certain passage where a character was killed and I thought "damn, that's good." I wanted to read more but I had to dash off, build some more phalanx, and make sure no one was attacking my alliance. Ah, the trials of online military leadership.

If nothing else, the buxom and callipygian Boudica's writing will help me realize that I should probably, you know, do something. Unlike Kevin Smith, my entire financial well-being does not center around meeting a deadline and getting something out there. Also, unlike Kevin Smith, I don't have two characters that I can just fall back on when I need--there is no "Alexander and Kenneth say something remotely witty...alright, what's Mike Rowe up to now?" Especially since one of those characters is dead. I'm such a literary cocktease. Or not.

So, I raise my coffee cup to the buxom and comely Boudica and wish her well and luck. She, like me, is writing for a niche market, but one with billions and billions of dollars poured into it annually. Me? I have a bunch of guys living in basements who look at a book, push their glasses up their noses, and snivel "I'll wait for the paperback". Now, time to get back to the editing.