I don’t even care that you’re turning the clocks back on me an additional hour. I ENJOY the fact that my body thinks it’s bedtime at noon. I PREFER to feel like a zombie and sleep only four or five hours a night. Isaac Newton only slept four hours a night. And Michaelangelo. And he was a genius. Sure, he lived and slept in the same clothes day after day after day and was legendarily stinky. Who has time to shower up when you’ve got masterpieces to release from stone?

Speaking of masterpieces, today is the first day of November. Which also means its the first day of NaNoWriMo. Which also means I should spend some time starting my novel. However, I’m still easing my way back into ‘the real world’ which has made me wildly unproductive. Do you have any idea how many clothes I have!?!? A lot. And accordingly, copious amounts of time can be spent leafing through them and picking out the perfect outfit. And combine that with washing my hair and applying the wide variety of lotions and potions at my disposal, and it’s mid-afternoon before I even get out of the house. Color me shocked, but I kind of miss the simplicity of living out of a little backpack. When your options are limited, you’re a hell of a lot more efficient.

In the same vein, and without a doubt, the primary challenge of the upcoming month will be maintaining my focus and putting a consistent effort toward getting my writing career off the ground. One of the key instincts I have is to do something every day – be it send an e-mail, place a call, mail off a short story, or attempt to assert some Jedi mind-control over Oprah. If I succeed, I promise to use her for good, not evil. Like adopting orphans with physical disabilities and putting my novel in her book club. That stated, if she starts robbing banks or selling plutonium to the North Koreans, it’s not me. I swear.

As for doing a 180 and crafting a career from, well, hope and a prayer, if anyone has any advice or input in this regard, I’m all ears. For many years I worked from home, so drive and discipline aren’t a problem for me…it’s spending my time on stuff that will actually (possibly) be fruitful. Or maybe I could conduct my writing like improv comedy? Everybody contribute some words and plot twists, and I’ll write you a story from it! If you what you would pick for your last meal if you were on death row and thus able to accurately predict your last meal.

In the meantime, I need to go chug a few espressos, watch a horror movie, and take a cold shower in order to convince my body clock that it’s not half past midnight. Wish me luck!