I bet I'm not the only wanna-be writer who allows things to go to hell while I inhabit a story. My family is exceedingly nice about it. Except for dinner. They are never nice about dinner. Someone ALWAYS complains.
I didn't so much as touch the keys of a computer yesterday. Instead, I picked up my neglected house, did countless loads of laundry, ironed shirts for my dreamy husband (not exactly my favorite thing to do but infinitely better than sewing on buttons after the cleaner breaks them), and took the crazy doggo for a walk. I also read War for the Oaks. Wow.
Tonight I will write. Or edit. I will not succumb to the instant gratification known as Nook. Want a book, buy a book, read a book. Thirty seconds. In fact, I pledge to write another 10,000 words before I make another purchase. Promise. Cross my heart. I mean it. Really I do.
Hold me to it.
Current word count is 25,435.
What should my reward be?? Erik Larsen's new book? Hmmm.