Postcards from Slacktown

So I'm just sitting on my ass watching TV, drinking coffee, yelling at the dogs like the insolent children they are (only these little ingrates won't bring me the remote), when I realize. Um. It's Wednesday.

I've got a blog to do.

I'm such a frickin' slacker lately. Sorry word counts, lots of ideas and no follow-through. Oh yeah, I suck.

Take the League book club, for instance. Where's that been? I can't even remember if we came close to picking a book (feel free to leave a suggestion, last time I asked, Black Magic Woman was mentioned quite a bit).

Then there's my WIP. It seems I'll do just about anything to avoid it. Oh...not in my head, that thing is just about all I think about, it's just the actual sitting down and writing that's not happening. I may need to hit the skids and pick up some hot Ritalin or something.

The exercise is helping a bit. Clearing my head. I nearly wrote 1000 words on Monday. Yesterday: 0.

Bad, I know.

I'm getting back on schedule. There's no ifs, ands or buts about that. I have to, the clock is running. So no more internet for the first 6 hours of my day. In and out for my scheduled blogs and that's it. I'll even need to limit my email checks. It's like I need to retrain my brain, create some new habits.

I'm heading down the same road I travelled with Road Trip, so to speak. Procrastinate. Procrastinate. Rush panicked through a first draft, heart beating like a jackhammer, stressed as shit.

Must. Pull. It. Together.

I'm off to do that.

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