All that is standing between me and one of these delectable pair of sneakers is 3954 words. Because that is part of what gets my creativity going: feeding it with fabulousness. And sometimes food (and on the best days, a shower) works, too.

But today, my ultimate cheerleader, my husband, made a deal with me:
Hit 1000 words, and I can get the headphones I’ve been lusting after.
Hit 5000 words, I can get a pair of the completely non-practical shoes I’ve been lusting after. (I’ll order both and keep the pair that fits/looks best.)
Hit 10,000 words, and I can keep both pairs of the non-practical shoes I’ve been lusting after.

And this afternoon, we headed to a local community space and got to work (me on writing, him on his day job).

Instead of heaping onto one of the projects I’ve started in the past (and have been neglecting, shames me to say it, since November 9…), I started something new.
And granted, as slightly autobiographical as this first bit is, I think I can change it into something usable. And I think I can even build onto it.
I think I can make it work, and that these words might not be throwaways to get my headphones (which I am so excited to arrive) and shoes.

Except that I still totally want my shoes.
And with Zappos telling me there are only 2 of the white pair and 1 of the gray left in my size… I better keep on writing.


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