I’ve been sitting in Procrastination Station for too long.  I don’t have a good excuse except for that pesky elephant that’s been smirking at me from across the room.

You know that old joke: How do you eat an elephant?  One bite at a time.

This one is a whopper and has been daring me to take that first bite for a couple of months.  Being a coward, I chose to ignore his invitation.  Instead, I played Fallout 4 until I dreamed of robots and synths and started looking at my wife funny.  No, I’m sure she’s not a synth (now), but she did threatened to hide my Play Station more than once.

The elephant just laughed at me.

I also watched enough anime to last me for years to come, and still the elephant was left uneaten.

I completed the last class to earn my editing certificate. This, I reasoned, was kind of like writing.  It counted, didn’t it?  The elephant shook his head sadly and offered me one of his massive foot pads to take that first bite.

My elephant is the third book in my series.  It is in need of a major rewrite.  I have comments back from readers.  I have reviewed it enough to know that this is no little “baby elephant” revision.  This is a over-grown 10 ton pachyderm with an attitude worse than a busload of middle school teenagers.

Today, I finally took a deep breath, pulled out that mass of marked-up pages, and opened my mouth wide for that first bite.

Hmm. . . tastes like chicken.