THE FOREST FOR THE TREES is about writing, publishing and what makes writers tick. This blog is dedicated to the self loathing that afflicts most writers. A community of like-minded malcontents gather here. I post less frequently now, but hopefully with as much vitriol. Please join in! Gluttons for punishment can scroll through the archives.
If I’ve learned one thing about writers, it’s this: we really are all alone. Thanks for reading. Love, Betsy
I’m pumped about my agent’s feedback on that blasted outline. “Excellent.”
*Queue the angel choir*
I hate Benadryl. It has the opposite effect and makes me feel like a slug.
I had a bad tab of fukitol yesterday. Couldn’t get out of my own way. But the optimism of a gray morning has got me resolute again.
I have a pro-choice OpEd in the Kentucky paper, and I’m up at 4 am reading the comments. Which is really really stupid.
Vanilla bean, crushed cookies and into editing a five year old manuscript. Like Ted said, “…and the dream will never die.”
Hey Donna, I am a slug.
Baked potato slathered in butter & sour cream, w/cheddar & sunflower kernals; small portion of cooked fowl w/kale; water w/vitamins & supplements; chagrin, dismay, fear, anger, pain & persistent sense of pointlessness.