Hurt So Good

I'm back to writing again and it hurts. It hurts to stop for so long then pick up the story again. All my writing muscles have gone back to flab. I can feel the layer of fat and cellulite over all the once finely honed muscle. I've been gorging myself on television and Harry Potter and paranormal romance novels and now I have to return to my own brain's creation.

And she's angry that I've left her so long to stew. I think she may punish me with at least eight hours of vain strivings, of writing that leads no where, of pages that will need to be cut.

But she will yield because she can't live without me even though I'm a bad partner. She will accept me when I come back tomorrow and be a little sweeter. Just enough so I can eek out my page count.