Eleanor Tatum

Texting is , or should be, similar to thinking before you speak. No intended references to an infamous texter. Maybe.

The key is proofreading, editing, revising, reviewing…sound familiar, writers?

I enjoy texting better than talking, calling, or face-timing. When I see myself on a screen, I am often too busy self-analyzing rather than thinking what I’m saying. “This Mess” has played havoc with availability to hair coloring and wrinkle creams. Forget the make up!

Mr. Word and Mr. Press have cheered me during “This Mess”, however.  They renewed my yearly contract. Nice of them. Mr. Master and Mr. Card assisted. Why are they all men? I have no idea, other than I’m so old school. They could be sloths or llamas.

Now, according to Word Press’s love letter , I now have an Happiness Engineer. His name is Herman. Really. I think I am thrilled by this news. Maybe Herman will increase my book sales as soon as I finish my current WIP.  By finish, I mean (see above) editing, proofreading, revising, reviewing, and praying over.

A bit more about “This Mess”. This is day #53 in my Swamp of Seclusion. Mother Nature continues to assume I’m sane by displaying her beauty: sunsets, wildlife, wind-whipped lake waters, occasional otters and my favorite, Douglas the Alligator. Mr. (or Miss) Amazon and Miss Ups-Woman and Mrs. Fed and Mrs. Ex keep me fed. Sometimes I tip them because basically they are keeping me alive.

I would text them, but Herman, my Happiness Engineer, has yet to connect.

Enough!