So, I’ve been kicking myself the past few days to get a blog in (and to clean the cat box). I keep getting email notifications from blogs I subscribe to. These overachievers are churning out, like, three blogs a week. What the hey? How do they have time to do other writing? Or shit-box cleaning? Or basic self-hygiene tasks?
[Grumble, spit, bleepin’ making me look bad]
Well, the cat box got cleaned today (and let me tell ya, that was a doozy) and here I am blogging about not wanting to blog. Who doesn’t want to read this crap-laced blog post?
Actually, I’ve been quite busy writing the past two weeks. Submitted a 13,000 word story under my dirty pen name and cranked out 20,000 words in the past three weeks or so (again, dirty pen) and now the guilt of not spiffing up a dormant horror story and trying to find a home for it, and not working on that zombie long pork story I started weeks ago (200 words or so–if you can call that starting), and not editing and sending to betas the other two novels sitting in my C drive, well, it’s really getting me down.
Damn, that was a long sentence. My apologies.
Tack on to that the fact that I write a newsletter for my daylily society which I try to get out in spring and fall. But spring sprang and now I am feeling the pressure and a lack of initiative. Add to that the fact that I keep getting these frackin’ back spasms and have been popping Flexeril like candy. Not only does my back still kill me, but I feel like the walking dead. Muscle relaxers suck-it big time. I’m so tired, and gazing at a computer screen with a warm pack on my back inspires me only to sleep, unfortunately. And oh the dry mouth. I shake my fist at you, Flexeril. And to my back, the bird.
In more exciting news, “Childhood Nightmares: Under the Bed” from Sirens Call Press is now out both digitally and in paperback. Super cool. I’m looking forward to holding a real copy in my hands, but for now, I content myself with reading my Kindle version.
Now I can check “blog” off of my to do list. Yeehaw!
See you next week or so. Same time, same bad jokes, and same stinky cat box.
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