Lazy lazy lazy lazy lazy lazy Jane

I know you're all waiting in deepest anxiety to see which spec I chose to write next. Bones, Weeds, or my own shiny pilot?

Can you keep a secret?

You can?

OK. I'll tell you.

None of the above. Nada. I've been a lazy good-for-nothing fool, whiling my hours away reading that Harry Potter book (btw, so not a fan, but this one was actually really good - looks like JK is finally learning to master her craft) and going to the gym. I did desperately need to work out, to repair the damage that two weeks as nurse to a collarbone-broken invalid has caused. But still. My writing!

Arrgh. Even though I know exactly what I'm avoiding (I really don't enjoy breaking story all by myself - that kind of thing should be done in a room, with other creative types, and coffee, and candy), I still haven't been able to boot my own backside quite enough to get me going. The other day in step class there was a surfeit of own-backside booting, too.

Anyway. Enough. I'm off to work on my Bones script. There, I've said it.

Just got a few chores to do first, and some real live paying work, and maybe a few blogs to read...

Slacker excuses
Notice the new colors on my blog? Betchya didn't think I could spend a whole galdarn afternoon doing that, did you?

Hence, the poem, by the wonderful Shel Silverstein running around and around in my head:
Lazy lazy lazy lazy lazy lazy Jane. She wants a drink of water so she waits and waits and waits and waits and waits for it to rain.

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