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Idiots and other artists

Well, the best intentions and all that … I haven’t read anymore in Julia’s book this week, but I have written more pages in the novel. No morning pages. But I am taking out current frustrations in my book.  My main character is venting some of her artistic frustrations when she should be enjoying a nice little breakfast on the terrace of the country estate of a handsome young Frenchman. What an idiot.

But that’s an artist for you – sometimes – and a writer too. Obsession takes over. Obsession to finish if things are going well and obsession to beat oneself up if they aren’t.  And in the meantime there is this tall, handsome and even nice fellow who wants nothing more than to take her in his arms  and – well.. you know.

Like I said. Idiot.  Oh well. It’s a book. I can make it end anyway I  like. So I guess they will get together in the end and live happily or at least passionately ever after.  Not like real life.

Back to the book.