Trudging up literary hill with Jane Austen

I hate exercise. At least I hate the after effects. I’m fine with taking long walks, hiking, and the occasional dance off in my living room. But I really don’t like sweating. It’s a real handicap when sweat is the proof that exercise is working. After a summer of trying my best to avoid the heat (to little effect), I’m trying to get back into exercising, but for now it’s an uphill battle.

It’s the same with writing. If I ever needed proof that it’s a muscle, I’ve got it now. Marketing has been plaguing me for the past month or so. It’s been rather consuming (writing blog posts, creating ads on Goodreads, keeping tabs on sales, fighting with the printer because of a 0.0625 differential on the cover art, etc.) and therefore has blocked out any semblance of a writing regiment. I vowed when school started for my daughter…