Procrastination is a well known condition for most writers. And I’m really very good at it; better, in fact, than I am at writing. Or so it seems, judging by my luck with submissions recently. And if I’m not good enough, why should I bother? Why not play just one more game of patience, make one more cup of coffee,  have half half an hour longer in bed? Procrastination is creeping into everything – in fact, since I started this oh so brief post, I have stopped to do something else more than a dozen times. I am procrastinating to the point of self-sabotage, to paralysis even. And it has got to stop, so I can start again. I want to be a writer again. So I MUST do better.

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