I've come to the sad conclusion that the reason I blog is to procrastinate the 'real' work I'm supposed to be doing. My novel is not complete, my novel should be complete, my agent would have every right to be thoroughly disgusted with my lack of completion. What does this say about me as a person? I disgust myself, so I sit here writing a blog that no one will read to delay hitting the keyboard and producing a manuscript that is good enough to be sent on to an editor. Am I afraid of success? NO. I crave success more than chocolate. So why can't I discipline myself to produce a daily quota of words in an attempt to finally finish that which I've spent a year of my life working on?
Are you waiting for an answer? So am I.
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