So it’s been a week and a half since I ditched satellite, and I thought I’d report back on the experience. Honestly, it’s felt very freeing. Some of the shows I watch regularly have started up in the meantime, and . . . I’m not watching them. No Chuck. No American Idol. No 30 Rock (well, I have watched 30 Rock online–some things shouldn’t be lived without). I even missed the Golden Globes on Sunday, probably the hardest thing I’ve passed on to this point. But it’s not like it’s felt very difficult. It doesn’t even feel like that big of a lifestyle change. The only real difference is that there’s one less time-sink temptation in my life. With abundant TV available, I could always just sit there and channel surf if I wanted to. Now, the surfboard’s been burned.
I like it.
And the promised writing observation? On an entirely different note, I heard back from the agent who had requested the full manuscript of Pawn of the Dead. It was a no, which was disappointing. How could it not be? At the same time, it’s all just part of the process. The second I heard the request for the full, I was very happy–but in that same moment, the probability of being disappointed in the future shot up. Interesting how the more joy something brings you, the more potential you give it to bring you sorrow.
And that’s all the metathinking I’m going to do today. Promise.