Enough of this family time, friends coming to visit, drinking in the afternoon with aforesaid friends, and introspection. It is the long slog of January. No one is going to come to your house bearing fudge. Those bills have to get paid. Teri has to be beaten in Words with Friends. Novels need to be written. That book won’t write itself, you know. It’s cold now in the northern half of the northern hemisphere; what the fuck else do you have to do?
Grab that last piece of fudge, get off the internet, and write.
This post is dedicated to one of my favorite lurkers, whom I saw in person yesterday.