Writing? What?

I know, I know. Writers don't paint houses, they don't take pictures of twee urban messages, they don't post vids of their dog wrestling yoga balls (coming up as soon as I figure how to download from my camera or give up and record a new one on the cell).

Well, maybe the do. They can. But that isn't the main thing they do. Writers write.

I've been deadlining for a while now -- to my last packet date, to the end of semester. My next deadline involves my lecture, and now that the others are out of the way I'm actually excited to work on it.

But. The lecture will not satisfy . . . the need to write.

I don't know if I've mentioned it here or not, but I was using a working title for my novel -- Touch. Before I submitted it in my thesis, I checked Amazon to see if the title was taken. It was. By Francine Prose, in a book coming out, I kid you not, the DAY AFTER I CHECKED.

If I wasn't such a fan of her Reading Like a Writer, I would have some serious jealousy-vibes swimming her way. But whatever. It just means I've got to get creative. I can do that.

So the novel formerly known as Touch is resting. It's part of my creative thesis. I'll be reading from it at my residency, which will be surreal. But I don't think it's quite, quite finished. I'm putting it aside for a month or more, writing some poetry, doing some research, and shaking up my brain with a project I started between my third and fourth semesters.

It is . . . a middle grade urban fantasy. Working title: My Dead Friend. It's really different from Touch, so that's fun, and I tried something I've never really done before -- outlining before plunging in. It's a loose outline, open to change, but so far it's making the first drafting fun because I definitely have a sense of where I'm going with it.