My Contacts Feel Like Superglue

I’m tired. And cranky. And sleepy.

Yesterday was awesome. I felt so on top of my writing, so focused and productive. I was sure today would be the same, sure I would have a productive, energetic session at the meeting tonight.

And yet I floundered, my brain full of cotton-mouthed bunnies hopping hither and yon without a thought between them. The simplest of words evaded me, the keys swam treacherously under my typing fingers, and I had the attention span of a flapping goldfish.

No. It was not a good night for writing. (Though I did manage a half page worth of words at work, which I did type in at the meeting.)

Or editing, which was what I had primed myself to do. I’ve come across a market (maybe, kinda, sorta) for my little zombie story, and I was so excited about the prospect of submitting it last night. Like, brain-racing, giddy laughter excitement. I’ve never submitted a damn thing in my adult life before.

But the more I read the post about the potential market under the light of the morn, the more I started to hem and haw. Is my story really romance, or is it horror? Is it what they really want? I may just be talking myself out of it. It may just be my nerves.

Going to submit it anyways. And once I pop that cherry, I’ll be more inclined to do it again. You know, if it doesn’t hurt too much. *grin*


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