Do you even know how many pounds of Salami it took for me to call the leg breakers off. That and some 40's of Colt 45. Pickles means business. She sent the 3 most recognizable fictional hit men to do the job. Damn, I'm flattered, sort of.
I've gotta get her whacked, and by that I mean wicked drunk. Maybe then she'll listen to me. Maybe then we can find the gusto to keep writing.
You all know about my meltdown, my all out postal, Rambo moment. I'm not as bad as I was last week, this I can assure you. But I ain't exactly back writing yet either. I have seriously lost so much of the passion, zeal, kick ass moxy I had before. Little by little it left, then there was the "incident" last Thursday.
My hubby, as man of few words, looked at me and said, "You've been going non stop for over a year. You write, your write for others, you blog about writing... you need a break."
Wow. Mens are smart sometimes. He ain't just thinking with his one eyed love me stick. He also reminds me that when I do get published he has a list of toys he'd like so I better get rested and get back to it. SOB!
Well, a break is coming! I am headed to the exotic island of the Wildwoods. A New Jersey escape like no other.
That's right bitches, I am going to the Jersey Shore! And before you even say it, NO. Not that Jersey Shore, no douche nozzles here thank you. Not fist pumps or beat the beats. I am going to the SOUTH Jersey Shore, the Philly part of Jersey.
Here I will find myself again, I know it. My characters, my stories take place at the Jersey Shore. Maybe this is what I need. Pickles needs this, Charli, I, will be in the passenger seat. No laptop.
This is for Lizz. Cause if she can't find herself. I will be wearing those Cement shoes and taking a dip in the Atlantic Ocean.
Oh, and AJ, if you thought the NY State Troopers were bad, wait til you meet the Wildwood Summer Rent-a-Cops. Bad ass mofos, I assure ye. They've confiscated many a backpack full of beer.
We me luck people!