I need a good kick in the pants. Well, maybe not an actual kick in the pants, because that could lead to damage, and for the most part, I like my pants. No, I need a figurative kick in the pants. And I need it in several areas of my life.
So, I quit my job. You know, the one that gave me money for the hours I thought about the novels I wasn't writing. Now that I'm home with hours to spare, I'm not writing. Do I have a good excuse?
Okay, well, I was just in a car accident (several weeks ago) and I got sick (a couple of weeks ago) and it turned into bronchitis (last week), but up until this point, coughing hasn't made me incapable of using my fingers. I'm just being lazy. Or difficult. Or difficult in a lazy fashion. I don't know. Whichever way you look at it, I'm not writing and I should be.
It's not that I can't write. I just don't want to. I can sit here and make myself write, but it doesn't end well. You could argue that anything is better than nothing, but I have high standards. I can't write crap. I won't stand for it. And while people have told me that what I think is "crap" is actually better than some final drafts, to me, it's crap. And I just can't have that.
I also want to go back to Colorado. But now that I don't have a job, I'm afraid that if I go, I won't come back. That's a little awkward. I mean, I came back once because I had a job and stuff waiting for me here. But now I don't. And my family has told me multiple times that if Colorado will make me happy, go to Colorado. So, why the hell am I not going?
I have no idea.
And I don't want to write.