As I chase babies, wrangle with multiplication tables and flit around southeast Asia - instead of writing - there are now two China expat memoirs released this year. I read one of them: The Foremost Good Fortune. And the most recent I just heard about is: Big in China (they're making a moving out of this one). I guess the cup half full person would say, "That just means there is a market for your book. How many damned vampire books are there?" The cup half empty person would say, "You fucked up. Chose to take a nap instead of writing too many times. What did you expect?" And the realist would say, "You never had a chance anyway."
I'll keep writing, but at this moment I'm pretty annoyed. Although, that may work to my benefit because I think I write better when I'm pissed off.
Thoughts on Bali still to come this week.