Aw, crap.

[apocalypsos]

I've only gotten about a thousand words written today and haven't finished any more chapters.

Somebody give me a verbal shoulder massage? I need the football coach from a feel-good sports comeback movie to come to my apartment and give me an inspiring speech.

(Have I said writing is hard lately? Because oh, man, this is SO HARD. I only have, like, 45k words to go but it feels like it's so far, and it's NOT, I could get it done by the end of the month EASY, and there are at least three chapters that are more than half finished that I mostly just have to get off my ass and FINISH, except I'm distracted by shiny objects, and did I mention that I had a bad dream the other night that I got laid off and couldn't get a new job and was trying to sell my books and it wasn't working and ... okay, after that it got really hazy, it may have segued into some weird Depression-era thing where I punch Russell Crowe and shovel out the Dust Bowl, hell if I know. But it was very sad and a lot like that time Blair Waldorf dreamed she was Eliza Doolittle and Serena was ... uh, well, also Eliza Doolittle. That was a pretty confusing dream, now that I think about -- OH MY GOD DO YOU SEE WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT? *sigh*

If I finish, can I take a puppy with me to the White House?)

Comments

[apocalypsos.livejournal.com]

SWEET. I call dibs on these:

[apiphile.livejournal.com]

You must *also* have a Pandadog. EVERYONE should have a Pandadog.