Arg. Can't do it. Can't do it! I am too tired. How many mess-ups does a person get? No twenty minutes on the novel, though I think I've spent hours writing other things today (just excuses!). My fellow twenty-minuters, this woman is failing tonight. I'm going to watch TV and then I will go to bed and fall fast asleep. Tomorrow, tomorrow I will write my novel for forty minutes, by hook or by crook. How many 'grace-nights' do we get? See, I just broke the rules and I'm looking for loopholes. May this be a Lenten lesson to all of us. At 10:13, TV, a bowl of clementines, and a hot cup of Sleepytime tempt my flesh to laziness. I am Dr. Faustus and the devil stares at me with a giant, rectagular black eye, an eye in which I long to see pretty moving pictures!!! I cannot turn and flee. Arg.
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