This was a pretty productive morning, where I wrote a lot of concrete thoughts (if there can be such a thing) on a couple of short stories I have to turn in ASAP.  Apparently I’m terrified that one of the stories just flat-out doesn’t work, but I decided to let the editor make the call on that one.  I did manage to pull out more on the idea of swerving away from the things you’re scared of, though.  I interrupted myself a lot this morning.

A note on something–I have a number of reading lists that I try to work through, to reflect the reading habits I want to have, and the territory I want to cover.  For some reason it occurred to me that I wasn’t reading an entire category of books that I’d resolved to read:  the works of long-term professional writers.  I started to explore that and…

I have a hard time reading long-term pro-writers’ work [on a regular basis].  Like not that it’s terrible or anything.  Just–I don’t have the discipline for it.  Why is that?  Well, a) where’s the list [of long-term professional writers that I can dip into], and b) you’ve read some books that are totally not for you.  Just not.  So you swerve.

There, too?  Shit, that’s annoying.  Like, new resolution:  don’t swerve.  But it’s hard to prejudge the state of not swerving, because the whole point is to not have to encounter something.  A good goal, but perhaps one that–

[Subconscious refuses to let me finish the sentence.]

Don’t swerve from success.

[…]

Just stop fucking yourself over.  Force the universe to cough up an enemy [that isn’t you].

If you enjoyed this morning’s journal, check out my novella, All the Retros at the New Cotton Club.  It’s all about a character who swerves from the truth.