When the clock hits half-past five, it forces a difficult choice around these parts. If I’m home from work already, there’s enough time–though perhaps a lack of motivation–to write for a few hours. Certainly enough juice is left in me to wade through a scene.

But then, staying in some kind of physical condition is important, too. Not long ago, I was a very large mammal. Periodic and fleeting joint pain remind me that obesity and I did not play well together. So instead of writing right after work, another temptation is to work out for an hour, eat, and shower. Then around nine, sit down, and write for an hour before bed. Those are my intentions. Honestly.

Option Unslug Thyself has a few caveats. Usually after a workout and shower, I feel like reading and sipping water. And maybe passing out to some music. So nine comes and goes, and more often than not, the only thing hitting the keyboard is a cat.

And that is the long road to finish a novel.

Tonight I pick writing.