Don't punk out.

So I'm what? 30 days into the book being released - but never mind that PR - I'm talking about Monday mornings, when you wake up and try to think of every conceivable way to get some more sleep. Awe my god, just 45 minutes - hell, half an hour would do it. But no, you've gotta get up and begin the process of getting your hump out of bed and starting the day. But the desire to cave is so huge, this must be what it feels like to have a meth addiction. Sometimes I wonder if it'd be better to open a meth clinic that kept you constantly high until you wasted away - certainly there must be some organs worth harvesting? I dunno - meth heads want to be in that state of bliss forever - me? I just want an extra hour in the morning. We all do.

Or at least to wake up when the sun actually comes out.

I've been thinking about the concept of punking out (which may be a west coast surfer/skater colloquialism - maybe not) and how it's a daily churn to try and keep a book out there, hopefully getting at least one more reader a day (which is kinda of where I'm at - maybe 2.5 readers). Are you sick of hearing about "Paradise Rot?" Nah, I'm the one sick of hearing about it. But still, I wrote it, I'm stuck with it. And I'm proud of it, like a story about you being drunk enough to get saran wrapped around a concrete pillar in a parking garage, naked. That shit happens. 

So I don't punk out. I treat every day of PR on the book like a Monday morning, minus the five minutes of staring directly at the kitchen wall while your kid wants breakfast.