Apologies for the lack of blogging over the past couple of weeks, but as most of you know, I’ve been neck deep in revisions on my second book in the Carrier series. They are all done and back with my editor now, so it’s time for me to sit back and take stock. And let me tell you, the stock isn’t looking so hot.
There are many things that writers are afflicted with, writers block, writers apathy, writers remorse, and there’s one more I can add to the list – writers butt. After several weeks of sitting unmoving in a chair while simultaneously eating whatever was close to hand (normally marshmallows, (aptly named Jellybelly) jellybeans, and Poptarts), the auld derriere and other protrusions (some being new) are not at their most pert. After several days of the sobbing/self-hatred/comfort eating cycle, I came to the conclusion that drastic measures were called for, and it all started when I picked up my unread copy of The Hunger Games.
Yes, I know I’m probably like the last person in the whole universe who hasn’t read The Hunger Games yet, but contrary to public belief, I’m of a delicate disposition, and upsetting books have a habit of pulling out my entrails and devouring them raw. But I spotted in this scenario, the perfect pairing of a fine book that I’ve been desperately wanting to read, and the reduction of my BMI, which co-incidentally brings me to another book that I read recently – The Dukan Diet.
The lovely sauve, Dr. Dukan, has promised me, that by starving myself of all carbs for 5 days, that not only will I lose 7lbs, but I’ll also lose my appetite, and my constant desire to eat giant chunks of freshly baked bread. Which brings me nicely back to The Hunger Games – my companion read, which is so far, all about a starving heroine and her family, a bread baker's son named Peeta (peeta/pita – the carb reference does not go unnoticed), and a city of disgusting overindulgence that makes you feel guilty to be part of a well fed society. Like I said, the perfect companion read.
So, while I’m following Dr. Dukan, Katniss, Peeta, and a whole host of characters I’ve yet to fall in love with, I’ll be dropping the pounds (hopefully), and maybe even creating the most effective reader/writers diet to have ever have graced the blogosphere, or maybe not, but either way, it will be a fun project. I’ll let you know how I get on.
All the best and talk soon.
Leigh
Now, that said, I'm off to stuff my face with great big hunks of hot bread straight from Peeta's oven.
There are many things that writers are afflicted with, writers block, writers apathy, writers remorse, and there’s one more I can add to the list – writers butt. After several weeks of sitting unmoving in a chair while simultaneously eating whatever was close to hand (normally marshmallows, (aptly named Jellybelly) jellybeans, and Poptarts), the auld derriere and other protrusions (some being new) are not at their most pert. After several days of the sobbing/self-hatred/comfort eating cycle, I came to the conclusion that drastic measures were called for, and it all started when I picked up my unread copy of The Hunger Games.
Yes, I know I’m probably like the last person in the whole universe who hasn’t read The Hunger Games yet, but contrary to public belief, I’m of a delicate disposition, and upsetting books have a habit of pulling out my entrails and devouring them raw. But I spotted in this scenario, the perfect pairing of a fine book that I’ve been desperately wanting to read, and the reduction of my BMI, which co-incidentally brings me to another book that I read recently – The Dukan Diet.
The lovely sauve, Dr. Dukan, has promised me, that by starving myself of all carbs for 5 days, that not only will I lose 7lbs, but I’ll also lose my appetite, and my constant desire to eat giant chunks of freshly baked bread. Which brings me nicely back to The Hunger Games – my companion read, which is so far, all about a starving heroine and her family, a bread baker's son named Peeta (peeta/pita – the carb reference does not go unnoticed), and a city of disgusting overindulgence that makes you feel guilty to be part of a well fed society. Like I said, the perfect companion read.
