Everything’s wrong. I have a cup of coffee, a quiet room, some bluegrass, a spooky graveyard that I can see from my office window. Everything should be fine, but it isn’t. I hate writing. I’m going to give up. But not until I finish this fucking month of revising. I’ve checked facebook twenty times and trolled a couple of websites looking for clothing I don’t have the need or funds to buy. I read a review of a book that I love.
I drag my eyes back to the manuscript. The transition between the chapters are total shit. Maybe there is someplace else in the chapter I can start? No, not really. Fuck writing. I’m going to go rake leaves. Wait, one idea. What if I put the next chapter before the current shit-show chapter? Oh. That works! It continues the theme of the previous chapter, but goes into more depth. Cool. There is a gradual cessation of pain. I find the will to keep on living and writing.
What keeps you going?