It appears word's gotten around that I'm doing this Thing, and so now I am starting to be questioned about doing the Thing, which gets awkward when I haven't been doing much of the Thing.

So here are a few ways by which I procrastinated. I swear, gulp, these all really help me write better--it's the long game, you see.

Learned the Colemak keyboard layout but can manage only about 30 wpm so far.
Played many hours of The Witcher 3: Blood and Wine expansion.
Did a lot of research into buying a condo. ("In San Francisco?" you say. "Yes, I'm crazy," I respond.)
GAME OF THRONES

In other words, writing is hard? And if it looks like I'm dedicated, it's because I put on a strong and deceptive face.

I have been told that my favorite eight-year-old child in the world asks my S.O., in my absence, if I'm "still working on my book" and is now working on her own story (about her invented Pokémon). I can't handle how fist-pumping-awesome that is. I mean, I'm pretty sure this is what success feels like, or something.

So consider me officially guilted back into writing. I promise the next update will be more substantive!