I am a fan of kugels.  For those unfamiliar with them, it is a wonderful example of Jewish cuisine:  essentially, noodles baked in eggs to bind, with other ingredients to make the dish either savory or sweet. I first met both kinds of kugel at a delightful seder I was guest at years ago, and have adopted this into my own "simple comfort food" lexicon. 

Now, why call it the Guilty Kugel?

Well, my friends, that is because I am feeling guilt-stricken today. A left-brain, geek-work client job (a whitepaper gig) has gone neglected for weeks past when the client should have received it. Yes, I was aware I should have been getting it done. But, I have been otherwise preoccupied, as you know from reading this journal. I kept thinking - "oh, I'll get to it later tonight", or, "I'll start it tomorrow"....and little progress has been made, until the days have spun past and now the client is upset. True, I could simply do a mea culpa and hand the unwanted project back to them - on the other hand it pays really well, should really only take me about 18 hours to do if I just DO IT, *and* (the real killer) - I really, really need the money. 

So today I have been deciding what to do about this and what to say to my client, while berating self for being lost in writerly things and putting despised left-brain-but-it-makes-money work on semi-ignore. Plenty there to feel guilty about. 

The result of this self-flaggellation is - you guessed it - refuge in Comfort Food, and a little visit to the kitchen this afternoon. Baking in the oven as I speak is a lovely onion-and-cheese savory kugel.  It's there only because I feel guilty about all the above, and am buying time while the ole subconscious figures out what to do about the missed deadline.  At least, in an hour, I will have something worth nibbling on while I compose some kind of response to my client.  

With no further ado, then, I present to you the Guilty Kugel, behind the cut. No pic, alas; as noted, it's baking at this very moment.

I'm a novelist. I write. Supposedly. I have science fiction and fantasy books in print to prove it.

But I hit a wall a while ago and haven't gotten on with the show for some years.  My books are no longer new news. My career is past languishing and in need of CPR. 

My mission, should I choose to accept it, is to re-construct myself and my life as not only a writer, but a raving full-blown FULL-TIME novelist, living the ~successful~ creative life I want to have, and have experienced bits of before. 

How to get there from here. That's why I'm *freakin'*.  Plus the fact I just commited to a delivery deadline for a book (under contract) that is long, long, overdue. Publisher doesn't care anymore why it's so late; they just want to receive the frakkin book. I finally threw down and said they'd have it by 12/1. 

So, naturally, I just left a world-class city where I mostly lived for the last 13 years, to hole up in a long-term (and I do mean long-term) writer's retreat Somewhere Else. I'm here not just for this 1 book, but for the one after (also sold), and whatever else I work on after that. 

No distractions, yes? Except for the world on my desktop, courtesy of the net.  And folks like you.

So this is my excursion. Surely I'm not the only one writhing on the horns of various creative/lifestyle/career/focus dilemmas. Or maybe, what the hell, I AM the only one going through this right now. Guess I'll find out.  At any rate, I felt the need for someplace to vent and share the process (hopefully more process than melt-downs, but no guarantees) - and get some useful feedback. Or not. Maybe I'm just screaming into cyberspace cuz it's therapeutic. Who knows.

My world, and welcome to it. 

And yes, I look exactly like my Second Life avatar, which is my user pic here. 

And now I will sell you a bridge in Brooklyn....

~Wylde~