So Matthew's at the Atlanta Film Festival, Hobkin's napping under his hutch, I've got a huge pot of coffee brewed, and I've got no excuse not to be writing. But am I writing? Of course not.
In order to avoid putting words on the page, I've dumped a load of laundry in the washer, neatened the bedroom, and fiddled with my writing logs. To top things off, my arms are hurting. My TOS is making itself known again.
I'm just totally pissed with myself now.
In order to avoid putting words on the page, I've dumped a load of laundry in the washer, neatened the bedroom, and fiddled with my writing logs.
How familiar! I'm doing the same sort of thing right now. That reminds me -- I need to go get some laundry out of the dryer!
I finished my revision of "Two Render a Mess" and even formatted it for submission. I'll print it out on a laser at work on Monday. I'd like to start on something new today, but I am pro-cras-tin-nat-ing big time.
On an up note, I'm on my second load of laundry and the bedroom looks less disaster area-esque than it has in a good long while. Nevertheless, I think I shall make it my duty to have a hysterical outburst the next time anyone says "writing is easy."
You, me, and britzkrieg should form a club. Although by sheer willpower, between when I posted this entry and when I popped up to see if anyone had responded or sent me an email, I managed to wring out a couple hundred words.
Progress = excruciating in so many ways.