My brain is partying in Ft. Lauderdale, apparently

I took today off from work for a writing holiday, so I’ve had the entire day to do nothing but work on Book 2. But I’ve had the worst time getting going. The conditions are right — a dedicated and inspirational writing space, reference books at my fingertips, perfect writing weather in the form of endless rain and misty clouds hanging low (weather we’ve been blessed with for going on 8 weeks now AND I LOVE IT), renewed excitement for new material, quiet cats, quiet house, mood music, at least moderate willpower in resisting the siren songs of internet distractions and game apps on my phone, and no major work catastrophes gnawing at me. (Well, we’re out of milk so I’m not able to fill my very fabulous mug with endless cups of expensive hot chocolate, but I can hardly use that as justification for not writing.)

Yet here I sit, very little written and more than half the day gone already. Assuming, of course, that my day ends at its usual time. What’s more likely is that I will be struck with inspiration later tonight and will end up writing into the wee hours. Because my brain is demented and juvenile — why write during normal daytime hours and ensure plenty of sleep when we can stay up all night like a drunken college freshman reveling in the lack of parental oversight to her own detriment? Clearly we must be OH HAI I AM A GROWNUP NOW AND I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT AND NO ONE CAN BOSS ME EVEN IF IT’S FOR MY OWN GOOD PARTY TIME WOOOOOOO.

Urgh. Self-discipline is part of being a grownup too, Brain. It’s not all late-night benders and eating cold pizza for breakfast just because you can.

Okay, back to it. Wish me (and my inner college freshman) luck.

*True story: when I moved into my first apartment, I loved to lean my chair back on two legs simply because I, like every kid, was constantly admonished by my mother not to because I’d lose my balance and fall backward. I’d be all, “Oooh, look at me, I’m leaning back in my chair and there’s no one to tell me to stop!”

…and then I lost my balance and fell backward. And 150 miles away, I have no doubt my mother was laughing her ass off.