I wake up in the morning ... shower, dress, (mirror to make sure tie is
straight and my 357 degree waves are properly laid, then out the door
for work ... I'm missing 3 degrees on my right side.)
Fruit Salad, coffee, New York Times (never read until the next weekend, here's why)
On the A train to the Port Authority to catch the 126 to Hoboken, NJ (24mins)
In those 24 minutes I'm jogging down notes for my next book because for
some reason I'm prolifically inspired in the early morning to focus on
another project when I should be focusing on a marketing strategy for my
current publication. It's my brain, I'm sorry, I can't explain him.
Voice recorder is activated to record me being that I'm racing to the
terminal. (Rich people take their time when they move, young ambitious
artists and entrepreneurs move like the world is about to end)
For some reason while driving, focusing on the road, and doing the
duties my job requires me to do my thoughts are much more clearer on
something totally different than the task at hand. So, I create,
speaking at a volume my recorder can pick up.
Lunch is light
because too much food causes drowsiness and I need to drive. Back on the
road I'm putting together my Stage Act to promote my book. A visual
enactment of my book message. Bringing words to life. A one man
Broadway show. I won't really be on Broadway but it sounds good.
My work day is over, I go home, transmute my daily log-ins over to my
desktop. Critique, slice, add, done. Research, read, enlighten myself,
maybe about 15 minutes of depression thinking about how much work needs
to be and how I'm practically my own agent, manager, publicist, creative
director, employee, employer, companies primary writer blah blah blah.
I truly do not know how in the hell I do all of this by myself but I do
it. I'm taking a nap, I'm exhausted ... Hold up, I just thought of
something...smh.
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