I sat down last night to type at least 1,000 words. Yeah, didn’t get one. I got so wrapped up in research on fallen angels and bragging about this new e-book I found, that I was able to come up with every excuse except typing. I even watched my husband play Gears of War instead of writing. Not that I don’t actually enjoy Gears as well. Point being, I didn’t write.
Which brings me to the conclusion that my apartment is an absolute black hole for me to try to type in. Which sounds like another excuse, but one I’d like to think has a little more validity. I need a place to sit, with laptop, head phones and no pets, tv, husband, etc to worry about for an hour at a time. Starbucks comes to mind, but being a teacher all day throughout the week means that after 5 PM (when I finally get home) all I want to do is collapse horizontal on something soft. On some days even the carpet looks perfect. Therefore, going out to a store (my closest one being a hole in the wall with horrible seating) means that the options (and Georgia winter weather) are limited.
Not sure what to do about it at this point, but words to a page need to happen in any sense. I will try after I get done here. Yet, being almost 11 PM eastern time, no Starbucks are open and my nice bed is calling my name. But, I have procrastinated all day til just this very time, so I must write something or prove the bed right yet again. There’s ice coffee in the fridge and plenty of alcohol should I wish.
The only thing that needs to happen first is for me to go out and drag my muse kicking and screaming back into this story whether she likes it or not. Maybe her rants will help me anyways.