An author's battle against procrastination.
You wake up in a house that’s not yours. What do you do? Don’t panic.
The recliner that I’m lying on is not even a recliner. It has a goth art deco style to it. I had to climb out of it to stand up. The room is black. Black walls. Black tables. Black everything. How incredibly depressing. I can tell you this place is definitely not mine.
“Another shot, Rex said.
“Are you kidding me,” Brody groaned. “No. I can’t.”
“Come on,” Rex urged with heavy exaggeration on the second word. “I don’t wanna go home yet.” Brody sighed. He always thought Rex sounded like a donkey when he did that. And Rex wouldn’t quit it until Brody gave in. “What are you going to do,” Rex continued.
I thought for a while what I was going to write. Gave myself a few days. Like what typically happens, I have this grandiose thing that I want to say and what happens is: the words don’t come out at all. So, what do I say about The Man? Continue reading “Stan Lee”
Danny stepped up to the glass counter, throwing his loose book bag over his narrow shoulders. He slapped the slim green box on the counter before hiking up his pants and belt. The guy behind the counter seemed uninterested in him as his eyes gazed to the back of the game store where two kids were making a mess of a shelf while they giggled.
I’ll be honest (I’m going to do a lot of that here), I’ve been saying I’m a writer for years. It felt good to finally say it aloud to strangers face to face and trust me that was its own hurdle. But as you embark on any journey, you start to realize some of your blind spots. Come with me to see why.
