…that I’ve written the post about not being around, not writing, blardy blard blarg. I’ve forgiven me. You’ve forgiven me. We’ve had a good laugh about distractions, self-doubt, and sabotage and now we’re at the bottom of the Triscuit box and all that’s left are slivers of biscuit and some moldy Gouda. The human construct of time marches forward on heels of iron and regret and we are merely dead leaves blowing along in its wake.
Or some such. Yet either way I have decided to resurrect myself, yet again, and give this a go. Much like quitting smoking – which I have recently done – sometimes there are many attempts necessary before something sticks. Some of the best things are covered in a temporal Teflon, evading that stick-to-it-ness of worse habits. So since time is our enemy and on our side and blowing in the wind, we’ll use it as our convenient prop to get this party started, yeah?
Over the next thirteen days I will attempt to draft out one short story per day with the intention of publishing them altogether in an anthology. This is a theme that I’ve been mulling on for a long time and some of the stories are either started or synopsized (new word!). I should have started this on the 13th, but alas, my timing, as usual, is terrible. Yet I would have you check in with me from time to time to see if I’m actually completing this completely doable goal.
Removing the progress meter from the sidebar for the other project. Those words still exist, but it, for now, is taking a back burner to other things. Let’s see if I can get up on the curb before I go back to the mountain.