I serve my head up on a plate

[hawkwing_lb]

You know, for a person who has a hard time believing that she ever does any real work, I appear to has achieved a significant amount of it so far this month of March.

Look, brain. NUMBERS.

3400 reviews/columns and 3800 thesis words written. 9 SFF books read. 5 research books skimmed. And some emails. And some exercise - not, mind you, as much exercise as I wanted, but not none either.

So I am not nearly as uselessly unproductive as the undermining no-confidence parts of my brain would have me imagine. YAY NUMBERS.

Of course, there's still a part of my brain that's trying to convince me that this is NOT NEARLY ENOUGH WORK, what are you, some kind of SLACKER? But you know what? Fuck that voice. One day it will learn to cower before the might of my measurable NUMBERS.

(An average of more than 500 words a day, O Voice Of All My Insecurities. With all your reading as well, that is a rather respectable average.)

Comments

[http://users.livejournal.com/la_marquise_de_/]

I swear, I am going to send you a shark, whose sole job will be to chew up those demons that are busy telling you all those lies about your work.
You are awesome.
(I currently have two big toy sharks and a small one guarding my desk; along with three ferrets, a raccoon and a wild boar. Those demons need a lot of scaring off.)

[hawkwing-lb.livejournal.com]

Today, the Voice of My Insecurities has been sat upon so that I can play videogames in peace. And answer emails. *g*

(If I had a desk, I would have guardian deities on it. As it is, I have a timeshare of the kitchen table and an armchair and sometimes part of the library or a coffee-shop. I must trust in numbers alone to guard me!)