I'm not very happy with myself at the moment. I think I'll start calling myself "Halfway Man." Since the end of summer I've been spinning my wheels. I've got a short story about Orcs halfway done. I've got a memoir about my beer drinking days that I hope will be both funny and suitable for a Kindle/Nook publication. It's halfway done.
I'm halfway through the galleys for In the Language of Scorpions. I should have been "full done" long before this. I'm halfway or near that on the erotica collection I was talking about here a few weeks ago. I've only about half way decided to publish it to begin with.
I've had a sword and planet story published that I want to promote but I'm about halfway to getting around to that. Hell, I even opened a beer the other night, drank about half of it, and put it in the fridge that way. There was a halfway finished can of Clamato already in there. Now, those two are visiting with the half eaten Quarter Pounder I stuffed in there from a few days earlier. If I can't even finish a beer, what hope is there for my writing?
What isn't halfway done is less than that, and I'm about halfway decided to chunk it all and play video games. Let's see: I'm about halfway through Red Dead Redemption. Should I go on with that one or buy a different game. No doubt, Halfway Man will buy a different one.
Progress, thy name is not Charles Gramlich.