You know what happens when you have certain writing goals and then you go and live in the woods for four days?
It gets tough.
And when the going gets tough, the tough get going.
Where the hell they go, I have no idea. But they get going. Alas, I am not tough, so I have to stay here and work. Sometimes I wish I were tough so I could just leave.
My counter says I need to write 1,158 words every day until the end of the month to hit my goal. That’s kinda serious. A thousand words is a decent day. That means every day has to be decent. But we all know that every day can’t be a good day.
But that’s a really funny thing to say, isn’t it? It’s like all those times I used to hang out with friends talking about how we can be better Christians. And we’d always talk about how impossible it was to actually be good and how people who thought they would be good were bad because thinking that you’re good is bad and thinking that you’re bad somehow leads you to be good but not too good because you’re bad.
Kinda defeatist, even though I understand why we used to talk that way. But whatever spiritual benefit there might be in self-deprecation, I don’t think there’s much to be had in other life pursuits. 1,158 words a day is doable today. What about tomorrow? Tomorrow doesn’t exist yet, so why are we talking about it? I know what I can do now. And that’s all that matters.
Mleh. I should get back to work. Selasis is in the middle of a very awkward conversation, and he needs to have an even more awkward one right after that. Shyyl is hungry and bleeding and I probably shouldn’t leave him in that state for too long. Achae is pretty messed up, and its cruel to do that to a child. And Pari and Jaedon are still where I left them, and if I don’t get them out of there, I expect they’ll be dead soon. So for their sakes, I should stop writing this semi-narcissistic post and find out what happens to them.