When I took up the writing mantel roughly a year ago, I think my computer started having some serious doubts about my mental condition. In the span of a month, I went from Googling wall colors, recipes and skinny jeans to hunting through lists of flower names, searching for 'girl with brown braid in winter' and 'guy with blonde hair'... and still skinny jeans. For me, I mean, not the blonde guy. Like this photo, from my permanent collection:
I started reading writing blogs and searching through writing contests and visiting twitter (gasp! I know. I'm not much of a social media gal unless you count Instagram, but you do what you must). My phone, which stalks me very effectively, is now divided into writing blogs that I frequent, notation of the next upcoming Thunder game, and informing me that I have lost my sweet mind. Oh, and since I have recently started Googling names for a new set of characters, it now thinks that I am expecting, and apparently wants very much to help me in my search for the perfect baby registry. Not pregnant, Google. Just trying to give birth to a new manuscript over here... though I can see why you'd be confused.
My computer also thinks that I am very susceptible to marketing. The worst part of that being, of course, that I AM very susceptible to marketing. Maybe if I take a month and focus on just Googling writing related things without the occasional link follow into the realm of women's fashion, Google will start suggesting books to read instead of really cute brown wedge booties that I probably can't pull of.
And if all of that hadn't convinced my computer that I am descending along a spiral of insanity with writing as the prize, I have roughly 38 documents created since last June in my Google Drive that pertain to books, querying, query tracking, drafts and ideas. And, since I am an artist at heart, some of these are named things like "Copy of Copy of Edited Copy of Book v2" and "From the CO car ride." Don't worry, when I set up the 8 new documents for the super secret new project, I named them things that actually made sense. See? I'm an evolving creature indeed. Speaking of driving places while writing (the smartest does the actual driving, by the way. Don't write and drive, folks, or you might end up in Narnia). Driving produces photos like this, which are their own kind of inspirational.