What are you here for, social hour? Shut up. Get offline. Do not go into the kitchen thinking you might get another cup of coffee…and maybe run into someone so that you don’t have to keep writing. You think this book is going to just write itself?
No more drinking wine until midnight. No more banter or conversations about craft. From here on out it’s just going to be writing. It’s me, and my ass in the chair, and the computer glaring at me making sure I get my daily portion done.
It’s a new year (literally, for some of us), a new leaf, a new page, a new chapter. This is the first disorganized but actually chapter-ish chapter (rather than an essay-written-by-a-poet chapter) of the rest of your life. Or book. Or whatever the hell it is I’m doing.
Now get the fuck off the Internet and write.
(That goes double for you, Cougar.)