Procrastination

I had set aside today to re-read what I’ve written so far of my novel, decide if it’s salvageable, and plan my next steps.  It’s 4pm and I have done nothing but eat soup and faff on t’interpipes.  Why am I procrastinating so?  I WANT to write this novel, so why aren’t I?  I’m a little bit daunted at the prospect of re-reading everything that I wrote, and I’m a bit scared that it’s all going to be awful.  But it might not be.  I won’t know until I bloody knuckle down and read the damn thing.  As soon as I post this entry, I’m opening the first chapter.  I am.  I AM.