So, my to-do list tells me that I’m supposed to blog today. However, my brain says that I’ve been telling people I want to finish the “first” draft of my novel by August. Y’all, that is only 13 days away. And I still have about 30k words to write. If you do the math (or let a calculator do it for you) that is roughly 2307.69 words a day — i.e., insanity.
But it’s my own dang fault. That finish line has been in the same spot for in months. Problem is, I haven’t been running toward it very quickly. In fact, I’ve sorta been walking. Stopping and smelling the roses, even. Maybe sprinting once or twice for the heck of it, but overall not really worrying, because hey, it’s no biggie, August is far, far away.
And now suddenly it’s not. Doh.
So for the next two weeks, I am making no excuses. I will not be good at commenting on blogs. I will not be good at responding to email. I will not be good at probably anything — except panicking, and making people at Panera/Starbucks/the library wonder how someone so young and able-looking could have degenerated into such a stinky, slouchy blob.
Fortunately, you don’t have to actually witness that. You can pretend I am calmly, peacefully dreaming my novel into existence. Like this:
In the meantime, if you want to read how I felt (more or less) about the last Harry Potter movie, click here. If you want to read how I felt (more or less) about the US vs. Japan Women’s World Cup Final, click here. And if you don’t want to do any of that, then just wish me luck please. I’m going to need it.