"So, when are you gonna write that book?"

Friends keep a person honest. Or I could say: sometimes friends are a pain in the ass.

Like when they say things like, "What are you gonna DO with your blog, anyway?" or "You're still getting up at 4:30 in the morning to write, then go to work? When are you gonna choose?"

I know. They mean well, but shit, sometimes friends are like your (stereotypical nagging TV) Mom.  A pain in the ass.

Here's the deal: for the foreseeable future, I'm working *and* writing, writing *and* working. I'm just keeping doing what I been doing until I change it.

Which means, Not sure about the book, Don't know when, Who says I gotta DO something with it, and Yeah, yeah, I'll write the book.

It's weird how book is much more worthy than blog as a habit, like it makes me seem somehow legit, like maybe the people who ask me those questions (friends, I love them) are a bit hung up on that legit part and don't get why I might just keep doing something, for love, for the personal satisfaction of it, without that Big Bang of Book at the end.

Don't get me wrong: who doesn't love or want that Big Bang at the end?  

Oh, and I just realized: the friends who ask me those questions? Guys, every last one.  Interesting.

Sure, it's true: if I didn't have to go to work every day, then yes, there'd be more time for writing. And so maybe then the book would happen. But let's be honest, then there'd be more time for everything, including gardening and reading and laundry.  It's possible I would have a really clean house and a booming farm, and no time for words since I'd be out doing other stuff.  

And having just recently read the book Wool by Hugh Howey, I'm in love with this idea of what's possible if you write a little bit every morning, write a little bit every lunch break.  Little by little, something -- hell, maybe even a book -- can come together.

But for now, this is it, yo -- just me writing what I write when I write it.  Yes, there are a couple of book ideas in my head, but so far, that's where they live.  

I'll get there, maybe, or I won't. Meantime I'm just keeping on doing what I'm doing, every morning, like so.

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