You need friends.

… because standing in a fountain in front of the Eiffel Tower isn't fun if you're by yourself.

The quantity (and, let's be honest, quality) of posts has been lacking of late. This is because I'm in Week 5 (but who's counting?) of a massive revision of The Silagree. Any extra energy I have at the end of the day has to be used to open the liquor cabinet, so blogging has fallen by the wayside.

But this isn't a post about blogging guilt. It's about appreciating those wonderful creatures who respond to texts such as, "I AM STARTING A PIG FARM!!!" or reply to emails you've written drunk and/or mildly panicked.

They're called friends.

I am so so so so so so so grateful for mine.

The last couple of weeks have been rough. I've reached a point where I hate my ms so much that I might have given up on it if it wasn't for these lovely ladies. Not only do they let me send them crazy texts/emails/pics/Tweets, but they also humour me when I start talking about the aforementioned pig farm. They distract me when I'm losing my mind (which is at least once an hour) and offer me so much advice they could write a self-help book or two.

For reals.

But more than that, it's the enthusiasm and belief in my book, especially when I don't have any. It's all the nice things they say to talk me off the ledge. It's the willing offers to read and critique my work.

Did I mention I was grateful?

When I consider my current crazed mental-state, I can only shudder to think what I'd be like if I didn't have my writing friends.* It's highly possible I would have given up. Or I'd be living in a cave. Referring to myself in the third person. ("Jade haz the nice cave.")

If I'm ever lucky enough to get published, my acknowledgements will be a novel in itself.

Who else is grateful for their writing friends?

* Don't get me wrong, non-writing friends are great, but they don't really understand your attachment to the Optima font.