I wasn’t going to write

I wasn’t.  I just got home, after a long day at work, and staring at the computer was the last thing I wanted to do. Especially since I would have had to unpack it and then write.

 

So I went upstairs instead, fully intending to sleep. But that voice in my head, the one that’s been convinced we could make a living writing since I was a child, said, “250 words. You can do that on your phone.”

 

 

So I’m writing. True, it’s a blog post and not fiction, but it’s words before I go to bed. It’s a promise to you and to me that I will get up and clean off enough of the dining room tomorrow that I can leave my laptop set up. I need to treat this like the second job it is or I’ll keep making excuses rather than stories.

 

And that’s not acceptable any more.

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