If I were to say that my writing stamina is flagging, I would be exaggerating. My writing stamina is like that of someone who started a race, sprinted the first 400 meters, and now is literally on the ground thinking about crawling. Wishing, rather. The finish line is nowhere in sight. There is mud up the nose and in the eyes. The sun is too bright. It’s also pouring.
(Warning: Scenario may not be completely logical.)
I am stateside though, which is the additional pressure on myself because typically the summers are writing summers. And even though I have now been in North Carolina for about a week, I find myself strangely procastinatory (yes, I said procrastinaory).
I have, however, bought some clothes, done a Target run, had a few dinners and hopped on stage for a bit of Improv, so, you know…productive.
Sigh, I say. Sigh.
Mr. Bradbury, I think we are in some kind of weird stalemate right now.
Ps: The story count is still the same. I am now 10 stories behind schedule.