I’m on the first official day of leave from my regular gig at the Gabber Newspaper, and I’m supposed to be working. I’ve set my work e-mail to auto-respond and I’ve started ignoring phone calls. It’s also two days before the start of National Novel Writing Month, which should dovetail nicely with my plans to finish my manuscript and get it to my editor so I can get on with my career as a writer.
So far I’ve been on Facebook – just to check – and priced healthcare. I’ve also done a small workout, ran the dishwasher, and finished the laundry. Oh, and I’ve made a grocery list and returned a bunch of calls.
But as soon as I walk the dog, pick up my paycheck, and get to the store, I am totally going to do this thing. And I’m going to make myself blog about it on the regular so I’ll be staring down not only an angry, unrevised page but the collective force of all your derision on top of my own shame and humiliation should I fail. Which I won’t. I’m starting now. Honest.
Just let me walk the dog, OK?
