"Well, if it's all the same to you, sir, I'd like to get the Kenrick murder off my chest first."
"This is my written report on it," Grant said, laying in front of Bryce the neat bundle of pages that was the product of his pleasant Sunday at home.
As he laid the thing down, he remembered in a vague, surprised way that what he had intended to lay in front of Bryce was his resignation.
What odd notions occurred to one on holiday.
He was going to resign, and be a sheep farmer or something, and get married.
What an extraordinary idea. What a most extraordinary idea.
So lots of people obsessed by work have fantasies of quitting -- not just children's book writers. When I imagine what I'd do instead, I think of a job where I'd see people I REALLY LIKE every day; something interesting where I'm in flow all the time; and of course a nice fat regular pay check.
But -- the fantasies don't last -- or at least for me, so far, they haven't. But I do have them, and I absolutely believe in them sometimes. If you had asked me about my future awhile ago, I'd probably have talked about the solitary confinement
I need to write and said when this novel was done, I'd move to England and get a real job THERE.
But now my writing is going well, I'm going to a book event with BRG Linda and then a party, and (though I'm looking forward to seeing Linda) I don't want to go to the events: I'm going because I said and I would and it's ridiculous to complain to myself about solitary and then say no to everything, so I'm trying to be balanced. But what I really WANT to do is stay here and write. I don't even want to get dressed, I just want to get back to my characters. Get a job? (cube,co-workers) Why would I want to do that? England still sounds good, though. And I know that once I get to the party I will be glad I came.