I chew my fingernails.
I hog the bed.
You don’t want to know when my driver’s license expired.
I drink way too much coffee.
I gave up sugar for a full year, and then gave up giving up sugar.
I lock up when I’m in a crowd of people.
Talking on the phone is really, really hard for me. Seriously. If you call me, and I actually answer, it’s a small miracle, and you should probably go buy a lottery ticket.
Issues, people. I have issues.
Right now, the issue that is staring me in the face, that is keeping me up at night, that is following me around like a shadow, is this one:
I did not set an unrealistic deadline for myself. I just flat-out couldn’t make the words come in time. So they stacked up, and stacked up and stacked up and now…well, you can see for yourself. I’m a turtle writer, not a jackrabbit, and there’s NO WAY I could ever, in my wildest dreams, finish this book on time. Now I’m looking at the necessity of having to push this deadline – and the release – of this book back. Ack-ack-ack-ack-ack. Cue Billy Joel song:
I’ve given myself an extra month. That puts my daily word count at a do-able level, which immediately takes my stress level down a notch. Now if I can kick this feeling of failure to the curb and just get on with it, I’ll be in business.
Thanks for hanging in my corner, and cheering me on…even in the failures. Big ol’ fatty hugs for all of you.