pseydtonne | Something to do while I hunt for a job, eh?

I've been reading Emergency Sex (and Other Desperate Measures) in between naps and writing sessions. It's written by three people, each experiencing the same situation in turn. It's early in the book so they're still meeting each other and sussing their ability to get along. One is a high-level social worker of sorts who divorces her big-time agent husband because she no longer feels connected, another is a Harvard Law grad who skipped taking the bar to pursue a noble goal he has yet to discern, the eldest is a Kiwi doctor who of the Medicins Sans Frontieres ilk who spent years in Cambodia when no one else would touch the place. Together -- well, so far they drink. Gimme a break, though: it's only page 67.

I want to write a travel journal worthy of publication. This is the first time in months that I've sat down to write at length when it wasn't about work. I think I have enough to say about my short journey that I could make a first book out of it. I'm not ready for fiction but I'm totally ready to write 150 pages as a bound paperback. I'm not even going to ask anyone whether this is a good idea. I'm just going to write it and let you know when it's time for alpha testing.

-no you won't dissuade me, Dante