I just finished killing about a half a tree. Sitting before me is a stack of pages, roughly an 1-1/2″ thick of stories that need to be edited. The inner me is pitching a righteous hissy fit because I don’t want to do it. I have something like eight-five thousand other things I want to accomplish on my snow/ice/treacherous-southern-weather day, and not a damn one of them is sitting here with a pen in hand figuring out how to turn the fiction in front of me into something worth submitting. I’m rebelling against what I know I ~need~ to do.

Rebellion or not, this is something I have to. Rules 2 and 4.

I’ve tried the if-then reward process. I’ve been doing it for the past two days and I’m actually running out of things to bribe myself with in the confines of my house. Ice isn’t going to let me get too far out into the real world today. Simply put,  I need to do one of these stories and get it out on the market. Having just two out there in the shark tank is unacceptable when I have a handful that only lack revision to be out there as well. What I’ll do as a reward escapes me at the moment, but I suppose I’ll think of something. For now, signing off to go confine myself to my editing space and see what happens from there.

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