The article on Morocco is almost finished. I just have to put some final touches, and voila, it's on its way to the editor. Monday, probably. And then he'll probably asked me to edit it, which is fine. I think it's too long anyway, but it just grew that way. I don't want to cut until I know what he wants me to cut.
Other than that, I'm yearning to return to my book. I got feedback on several stories in it and I'm really itching to edit them. But I should really get on my democratization article first. Why is writing fiction, or blogging or even travel writing so much more fun than analytical articles? I know why! I can't use my imagination, nor experience, just dry facts. Sigh.
But I said I'd do it, so I'll do it. You know me (no you don't), it's hard for me to start something lengthy and demanding, (like marriage or a novel), but once I do, I usually like working on it. I will like this article too, once it's published. The fulfillment, ahhh.
Other than the writing, I have this black tie event tomorrow, and I still don't know what I'm going to wear. And I don't sound girlie or superficial here. It's important what you wear to black tie events, that's why they are called "black tie." Even though I find it sexist, and I'm a bit tempted to actually wear a black tie to it. And nothing else. Kidding. Don't censor me, I'm just kidding. Anyway, my bark is wayyyy louder than my bite, usually, sometimes, maybe?
I have a big mouth, and fast fingers, that's it. I'm actually quite harmless...