Shut up and put your money where your mouth is, that's what you get for waking up in Vegas.
I am not disciplined. At all. Example: I opened this window at 11:39. It is now 12:50ish. I may have some form of ADD, as yet undiagnosed. This could become a problem. The last couple of weeks, though, I had a good streak going. About 1,000 words written a night. I'm proud of myself. I told myself that 1,000 words was 1,000 more words to my ticket off this rock. As I'm aiming for 90,000 words, I have a lot of work to do.
If I do 1,000 words a day, it would take me 80 days to complete the rough draft. That doesn't sound so bad now, does it?
Easier said than done. Crap.
I should have sufficient motivation to write. I have the novel plotted out, outlined, characters (mostly) mapped out, their personalities explored. I know them like I know my best friends.
Am I losing hope?
My day job is slowly siphoning away my faith in humanity, and my own talents, or lack thereof. Retail is draining, a slow killer. So, I should be able to redirect my frustrations and annoyances into a creative endeavor, right?
WRONG WRONG WRONG. YOU'RE WRONG.
The atmosphere at the ol' day job is heavy. I feel like if I step one toe out of line, and I'm not all "PRAISE CVS AND CUSTOMERS ARE NUMBER ONE I MUST TOSS THEIR SALAD IF THEY ASK ME TO IT'S ALL ABOUT THEIR NEEDS NOT MINE *FAP FAP FAP*" I'm gonna be blindfolded, handcuffed and tossed in front of the firing squad. I wonder if this is how North Koreans feel.
Now, I'm going to waste more time, and watch Samurai Champloo, and take some Nyquil to help me sleep. It's cheaper than Ambien.