It ain’t easy. Working my way through this third draft, I’m falling farther and farther behind.

Work is time consuming.

I wish I could say it wasn’t my fault, that all the stuff with my wife’s parents has taken my time (and it has, partially). But a lot of it is just excuses. Fear of getting started. FOGS.

New acronym alert.

But as the book said, start. Start, start, start. Start doing, and you’ll be okay.

I’ll be okay.

Kindness to the self. The gift that keeps on giving, even as I consider myself wholly worthless, untalented and destined to fail.

It doesn’t matter, as long as I try.

Target: 800 words
Written: 185 words, novella: The Mungk