So, my novel revisions are out to an editor. My memoir is "done." The query letter is stewing. Here I am with nothing to do. This has happened before and it always seems to come out of nowhere, all of a sudden. The first time, after the last paragraph of a novel appeared, I became obsessed with beading. Really. If you want one of those magnifying mirrors that hangs around your neck, let me know. The second time, I got a dog. I've heard other writers talk of this stage of writing and mention cocaine and alcohol.
This time I'm so trying not to spend way too much money on a hobby I will abandon or make any life changing decisions. But I wander my house. I cling to my girlfriend and not in a good way. I stare at my submission chart over and over for no good reason.