From the Depths of Writing Hell
I have produced only three pages since Tuesday and they are sheer crap. I need to produce at least 14 more by next Thursday, 17 if we count the revised sheer crap pages.
I have been trying to tell myself, "Just do this thing, because you want to and you have to. You know how to do it, so just cut out the drama and the angst."
Still, only crap.
Have I really forgotten how to put together an article or is this self-sabotage?
Really have no time to ponder that question. In addition to getting this thing done and sent, I need to write my syllabi and find course-packet readings for two of my classes (and get all of that to the printer).
Am having a fun email flirtation with Dr. Muckity Muck and indulging myself in many outlandish fantasies about Demetrius and about a former student (not the two together . . . hey, wait a minute. . .). These diversions are the only things keeping me sane, as I have been alone in the garret for nearly a full week. This is not healthy.