What I'm Doing Right Now, The Untwitter Version
From time to time people--sometimes even my parents--express a curiosity about what writers *do.* Every day. During the day.

Right now I am laboriously reading the same four chapters over and over, slowly coming to the conclusion that the grand rewriting eureka decision I made last week, ie, to move a chapter from part one into part four, was, as we literary types say, totally retarded. I will have spent the last two hours going back and forth, and finally putting it back, a hundred pages earlier.

While making this awful redecision I have checked my email, posted this livejournal, had some crackers and chevre, looked over photos I have recently taken, stared at the clock, thought about how I am wasting my life, wondered what we're going to have for dinner, asked a fellow author a Scrivener formatting question, remembered the laundry I was supposed to do, and ate some more cheese.

I don't know if Tolstoy managed to concentrate solely on the page in front of him, or engaged in Olde Timey versions of twitter (shouted out a window: "Hey! Alexander-Sovrenko-known-as-Misha, what's the good word on that totally off the hook hottie I saw you with at Mme Liszt's last salon?").

All I know is I definitely need some more cheese.