I hate the way when I have a time limit–we’re going grocery shopping in an hour, or I’m going back to work in a week–I just can’t seem to do anything.
Deadlines are fine. I can work to a deadline. A very good thing, since I want a writing career. But limits? Limits get me.
And it’s so stupid. I am (as far as I know) supposed to go back to work next Monday. I have a whole empty week ahead of me! Who wouldn’t be very grateful for an entire week off? But here I sit, thinking about how it’s my last week. It’s not that I don’t want to start anything, either. I’m right in the middle of editing Flame. All I have to do is get back to work.
Enough whining. I am getting back to work. Onward!