On Friday, I decided to stop procrastinating and file my income taxes. So I spent several hours collecting information from three different financial dumpsites in my house, clicking through computer files, and downloading forms and financial info from the web. I was ready to whiz right through the tax forms over the weekend.
The next morning I put on a pot of coffee and got to work. No problem. Two or three hours tops.
Yeah, right. Along about hour ten, I came to the conclusion that taxes are harder for fiction writers than anyone else. It's because the IRS frowns upon us doing what comes naturally--making things up!
By the end of hour fourteen, the coffee pot was empty, and my eyes were blurry, but the taxes were finally efiled for another year. And, of course, my bank account was a whole lot smaller. Isn't anyone else supporting the federal government?
The bright spot in this story is the taxes are behind me and I'm free to begin a writing marathon today, two months of concentrated effort I hope will produce the first draft of another Elvenrude novel.
Kam has been whispering in my ear about some kind of trouble brewing. I'm eager to know what's going on down New Orleans way...
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