During a pivotal moment while watching You're the One That I Want last night, my muse took up residence on my left shoulder and whispered these words in my ear:

"If you don't do it now, it'll never get done."

I almost didn't hear her because one of the second-chance performers was screeching his way to the bottom of the voting list. Then she tugged on my earlobe and repeated her warning.

It was kind of creepy, like the fickle finger of fate finally pointing in my direction. Or getting a fast-food bill that adds up to $6.66.

She was absolutely right though. I had to get over my fear of the revisions super-quick as my deadline is still approaching at a heinous speed and any further delay would result in...something horrible: an self-imposed extension.

And any extension will run smack-dab into all those other projects waiting in the wings until this one is out of the way. You know, the other book ideas, the game show, the musical, the greeting card line and a host of other truly strange items that will help me take over the world.

Just the thought of having the novel in good enough form (I'm a perfectionist, so I must say "good enough" or I will be in revision hell for the rest of my existence) to start searching for an agent and publisher gives me goosebumps. Because it really does seem impossible at first, and now it's almost...approachable. It's a very cool feeling that terrifies me.

But fear is just your body's way of letting you know that you're doing something different. Like hang gliding. Or mainlining heroin.

So to my procrastinating self I said, "ENOUGH!" and raced over to the computer and added 10 more pages. Not quite the "20-a-day" goal that other folks are reaching for, but it's a helluvah lot better than the 1.3 I would have scratched out in the wee hours.