No More Pepsi

Watching the Lost premiere, very sleepy, and fending off a headache from entirely too much Pepsi consumption.  Also looking over the short story that I think I will post to the OWW.  

I’m wallowing in a bit of self-pity here.  I’ve spent some time looking through the current submissions, feeling deeply inadequate, and then reviewing my own meager offering.  But I’m committed to it.  I have to do it, at least once.  I’ve paid for membership for almost an entire year and never once made a peep.  

Fine.  I can write words.  But can I edit them?  Do they even make sense?  Am I just wasting everyone’s time?

Worst case scenario – they laugh at me.  Well, I’m sort of doing that now, aren’t I? Second worst – it gets ignored completely. Not so bad, and not so different from not putting it up at all. 

Tomorrow I will do a couple of minor edits on the story and then post it.  And then do at least one review of another piece.  Plus my words, of course.

My hands are cold.  I’m tired.  Around 4:00 a.m. Greyson decided that I needed some company. Forcefully affectionate company.  I didn’t really sleep after that.   Tomorrow the only thing I’m leaving the house for is to walk the dog.  Other than that, it’s me, fuzzy socks, and the words.

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