Caution: crabby writer rant ahead.Posted: November 23, 2011
Earlier today, when I was out driving my son to karate and buying sick-food for my husband, I thought of a good topic for tonight’s post. Damned if I can remember what it was.
The work I planned to do in my online critique group got ahead of me. Now (as of midnight somewhere) my latest chapter is up for review – which is good – but I missed the deadline to critique some stories that were up during the last review period. That means I missed my opportunity to earn full credits for work that I’m going to have to do anyway. I tried to get one quick critique done before the queue switched, but I got sucked in, and went past deadline.
Now it’s 2:30 in the morning. I’m only just starting my blog post. I haven’t yet responded to recent blog comments. For days, I’ve been posting only to WordPress, with the intention of copying posts to the mirror blogs “tomorrow”. ‘Haven’t done it yet, though.
I haven’t yet graded some critiques I’ve received on an earlier chapter, even though it’s polite to give feedback as soon as possible. I have read those critiques, which were thoughtful and helpful … and embarrassing. You see, I spelled the word envelope wrong – a half dozen times. Apparently, I typed envelop …repeatedly. Which just sucks. I do know the difference. (Clearly, I rely on that squiggly red line too much.)
I haven’t yet worked on my manuscript today.
Right now, the theme from The Big Bang Theory, is playing over and over in my head. (Well, the first two lines of the song are anyway.) Why? Because, instead of buckling down and doing the work I needed to to do today, I sat, knitting, on the sofa with my sad, sniffly husband, watching all the episodes we had recorded to the DVR.
Screw it. I’m going to go take a bath, then drink a Bailey’s on the rocks in front of a TV tuned to something soporific. I’ll start again tomorrow.
Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I’ll try again tomorrow. ― Mary Anne Radmacher