Last month I took ill with some sort of unkillable bugs that resulted in losing my voice. No voice resulted in missing so much work that I managed to blow through all the time off I’d saved up over the past ten months and also wore out all the subtly tabulated goodwill and patience from Those Above. Now I’m thiiis close to being fired.* It’s good to be back in my comfort zone?
- Write most days (any fiction counts, no word goal).
- Find a writing schedule I can keep.
- Current project: At the Bitter End.***
- Post some fiction/a fragment here at least once a month.
- 33 days and counting.
*As in “If you take any more time off, you’re fired.”**
**I would be more concerned about this if 1) I wasn’t aware of how fucking spectacular I am at this awful soul-devouring job I hate and/or 2) keeping my job required anything more involved than basically just showing up and/or 3) I actually thought they’d do it.
***Because all the endless potential inherent in the concept of the New Year inspires me to (de)construct the zombie apocalypse. Or something.****
****Note to self: Stop over-analyzing everything. (Yeah, that’ll happen.)