There, I said it. To myself, mind you. Hubs and I had a conversation on the status of my fledgling writing career and I told him the reason I was stalled was because I hadn’t obtained the perfect editor for my novella. I didn’t have the perfect editor because financial resources are limited. Put the money to the side over and over, only to have it go somewhere else. Somewhere in this I’m sure I mentioned needing a cover and my lack of time to focus on my craft. Thus, an unspecified period of time (trust me, its too long and embarrassing to say) has passed since I completed the novella and it was still unpublished.
I replayed the conversation in my head a few days later and realized I sounded like just another person who was making a bunch of excuses as to why he or she hadn’t completed something that he or she set out to do. I sounded lame and said aloud to myself, “Just stop being a punk bitch already.” I loathe whiners and excuses from people on my day job, so why am I doing it? Where is the courage? I’m like the Cowardly Lion here (and on some days, I’ve got the hair to match)
So what do I do with the revelation that I’ve been drinking the excuse-flavored kool-aid? It’s actually quite simple. Stop whining. Get back on track. And quit my bitching.
So, here I am, trying to do just that.