I've been more excited about JaNoWriMo than I was about Christmas. I had all these ideas for the novel I'm going to write so easily and quickly this month. So why didn't I start?
On your mark! Get ready! Set! Go...do something else. Word count: ZERO.
My excuses are unique and lousy. My husband decided to make the desk for my treadmill that is my Christmas present. That way I can write and walk (slowly). So, of course I couldn't work with him in my office.
I mean, he was using a power tool. He was singing. He was snacking on cashews. He was walking to and fro. It was noisy. He was finished by 2:00 or so and then I had to pick up our daughter from a sleepover.
And heaven knows I couldn't possibly write in any other room. Oh no. Not when there was such a good excuse going on in this one.
And I couldn't write when I got her back home, could I?
Apparently not. Waiting for a little adrenaline rush. At least while I'm procrastinating I'm going to listen to a Vanessa Grant lecture while I take down the Christmas tree. Maybe when the Christmas stuff is all in the attic, the attic in my head will be a better place to work.
Happy New Year, all, and know that whatever you have done or didn't do, my purpose is to make you look good.