A couple of weeks ago, I talked to my granddaughter while she was visiting her other grandparents in Michigan. She informed me that she was wearing her big girl Dora the Explorer underwear because peeing on herself is gross. I applauded her and cheered her on.
Then I sat down in front of the computer and started to write. The next day I sat down and re-read what I wrote. In the words of my granddaughter, it was "gross." A big pile of crap. Some of it was useful, but for the most part, it stunk. Instead of lowering my head to my desk and banging it a couple of times, I put on my big girl underwear and got to work. I had to fix it. Had to finish what I started. And now it's better. After all, isn't that what being a writer is all about? If I'm going to be serious about this, I need to do my business or get off the pot!