Effing things up for yourself...

For the last few years I have been a head of my deadlines. And not just a little. But like, months ahead of deadline. I seemed to keep having these events that I wanted to get books completed by - biths of babies, American Thanksgiving, Conference, Drunk Writer Talk. So, I had real deadlines and then I had my own.

And let me tell you, this has been great. I am heroic in my editors eyes. I have so much good will built up in this department that if I could somehow transform good will into shoes I would be Maureen.

And I've liked it too, I feel on top of my game and focused. I was really diligent every day despite being ahead of the deadline.

But OH! Oh the times they have changed - my deadline is November 15 for my Harlequin Superromance (I thought it was Nov. 22, why? No idea). And it's doable if I stick to my word count goal every day and work on the weekends and in the evenings...really, it's not even that hard. But what have I been doing? SLACKING OFF. Watching TV - in the middle of the day. Eating cookies? (That's effing up this no cookie diet I was on for about ten minutes. The second I said "Molly, no more cookies, what did I want? Ten cookies.) Friday Maureen and I had a writing date and what did I convince her to do? HAVE A BEER!

I am so far away from my word count goal that it's actually funny. Like ludicrious. Like a Monty Python sketch. And it's not my children, or my husband, or fate conspiring against me, it's me. 0 me. Though Maureen could have been a bit more firm on that beer thing...

Do you do this? When the pressure is on, do you go to sleep? Because I've been doing that too.