Quicksand

Today I worked on chapter two of Lowcountry Boil. I decided to rewrite it in first person, but it's not from my protagonist's point of view. It's from her brother's. I worked on it for an hour or so, changed my mind and recopied the old version, changed my mind back and worked on it a little more, tossed it a second time...this went on all day. When this kind of indecision abducts me, I feel like I'm drowning in quicksand. I finally finished the chapter in first person, but I'm just as likely as not to toss it out again tomorrow. I feel like I accomplished less today than I did yesterday (nothing).
On another happy note, I got two short story rejections from a literary magazine today. Oddly, that did not depress me. I used to go into a decline every time I got a form rejection, but I've been inoculated. A growing stack of rejections will do that. It's just another sheet in the folder. The law of averages dictates that sooner or later, somebody somewhere will publish me if I am relentless enough.
Jazzercise didn't happen today, but it's not my fault. I couldn't sleep last night, worrying about getting up at 5 to make the 5:45 class, so naturally I over slept. I decided to hit the computer early (to make up for yesterday) and go to the 6:00 pm class. I had good intentions. Circumstances too mundane to commit to the written word conspired against me, and, alas, I missed the 6:00 pm class too. But, I made it through the day without the aide and comfort of a Mega Moo Mocha Moolatte. Now that depresses me. Hey, Dairy Queen is still open...