That feels like it should read “willful destruction”. Perhaps in a weird way it is. I am willfully destroying my available time to work on my novel by taking every opportunity for distraction that is offered to me.
How to stop this?
What if my will is napping over in the corner with Pooh Bear after a lovely round of honey mead?
~Set it up that distractions aren’t easily available.
~Close your email program so that the ring of newly arrived email doesn’t invite you to play hooky from the story.
Are you nuts?
~Yes, but that’s not the point. It really will work.
Maybe–probably–yes…but then I wouldn’t know a new email had arrived!!!
~My dear, that’s rather the point.
~That doesn’t change anything.
I hate reasonable plans.
~You mean you hate having to give up your excuse for avoiding your novel because of your innate fears of success. Failure, too, but we both know success scares you more.
I really don’t like you right now.
~Hate away, I don’t mind. Now go turn off your email and get a few more minutes of intense editing in.
I hate it that you’re always right.
~I know. But you can always take comfort in knowing that I’m you. Now stop distracting yourself and have fun editing!
That’s a mild contradiction in terms, but fine, I’m going. But since I’m the one typing this, I get the last word. So there. Nanananabooboo.