How the hell can it be June? I haven’t accomplished anything!
Okay, someday I’m going to have to get over that. I haven’t done anything the world has yet noticed. I feel like Aragorn in the Very Secret Diaries (click carefully, not for the puritanical).
Day Twelve: Still not published.
Day Forty-Two: Words written: 541. V. good. Still not published.
Day Fifty-Seven: Finished first draft. House update: Seeking protection as a National Monument to Neglect.
Nope, not published today either.
I don’t know. How do I, Queen of Distraction, who cannot make a pot of coffee without getting off-track at least once, maintain the drive to get published if I stop thinking I’ve accomplished nothing if I’m not published?
And is my memory/ADD/whatever getting worse lately? Or is it that I’ve always had trouble keeping focus, and only now is my memory good enough to remember how often it’s happening?
Arrgh! See? This entry is about my actual vs perceived progress, not about the way I have to write myself notes because if I’m more than two clicks from what I want to look at, I’ll forget what I was looking for before I get there. I don’t even think it’s an actual problem. My guys are just really noisy lately. This is a good thing. It means we’re ready to write. Though I still haven’t written a darn thing since Monday.
Okay, staying on topic just doesn’t seem to be something I can do today. See why I like writing? When I wander off, I can just look and see where I was.
Grr. Getting published. I want it so bad it hurts. I made up my steps, and my goals, but there comes a point where I have no real control. I send it out, it comes back. Or it doesn’t. Nothing further I can do. Doesn’t matter a damn how devoted, single-minded, desperate I am.
Fuggit. I’m gonna go write.