Yesterday was one of those days where I found myself unable to do much of anything. I flitted from project to project never really finishing most of them. I did rework the beginning of Sheepsquatch, and I started my cover for the omnibus edition of Uncommon Animals. I played with the basic cover template for Monsters of Pittsburgh, having some font issues over there.

Despite my best efforts, I just didn’t feel like doing any of it. Which is odd. I like being busy. Yeah, sometimes I stress myself out. I put a lot of my plate, but never so much that I can’t handle it. The kids are A students, the house is more or less clean, I pumped out six (soon to be seven stories) on time while writing the rough draft of the sequel, and doing all the marketing myself.

Self-publishing  is work. I work very hard. So having a day where I just stare out the windows and sigh isn’t part of the agenda. But like my procrastination last Saturday night, it happens. I  tend to give in when it does. Even I need to take a night to play Civ V and watch Frasier with the husband.

But the day off is over. I have seven stories to polish, and make covers for. You can scoff at a September 8th deadline for the first story, but I can’t. Sure the individual stories make sense, but the thing as a whole has to make sense too.

I’m not worried, per se, but time is no woman’s bitch, and if I don’t get it done, no one else will. The problem with being your own boss is that you have to kick your own ass every once in awhile.