When someone asks me what we’ve been doing, I say this:
Oh, you know. The usual. Painting minis. Writing books.
Because at my house, that’s what we do. I mean, that’s what we do besides change diapers and read board books and make duck sounds and blow bubbles and mow the lawn and look at the unpulled weeds and then finally pull the weeds and check the mail and do the laundry and vacuum and do the dishes and ignore the dishes and do the dishes again.
Drew paints minis. I write books. Sometimes I paint minis. Sometimes Drew listens to the new ideas that are going in the books. Sometimes he reads for me. Sometimes he sculpts. Sometimes I revise. We interface with clients. We redo the schedule. I do some accounting. We talk about money. We talk endlessly about what else needs to be done and how to keep making progress on these goals of painting minis and writing books.
And then, when we’re done with all that, we walk around a park. We play video games. Sometimes I have writing group. Sometimes we have roleplaying. If we’re feeling really ambitious, we play with all those minis that we’ve painted. Those games might sit out on the table, unfinished, for weeks, while we go back to the business of painting minis and writing books.
So I don’t have anything to say when people ask what I’m doing with my life. It’s nothing new. It’s nothing exciting to talk about. What are we doing with our summer? Are we going on vacation? Are we doing anything new and exciting?
No. We’re doing something old and exciting. We’re painting minis, and writing books.
I’ve done a lot of things in my life. And this, I tell you, is the best of all possible lives, this painting minis and writing books. I just don’t think that it possibly gets any better than this.
So, sorry all, but I’m just going to go on being happy that I have nothing new to say.
I hope it lasts forever.