My stomach churned with acid and I fed it coffee, shutting out the self-destructive whispers encouraging me to abandon this pursuit. But as I turned the corner into my office, I saw the message scribbled on my tiny chalkboard: Publish or Perish.
In that moment, I wanted to perish.
But I sank to the ground, positioning myself in front of the plastic tub that holds my laptop--the makeshift desk I fashioned when I moved back to New Orleans a year ago. My old desk didn't survive the trip out of my old office, much less the trip from northern Louisiana.
For hours, I fought with various uploading systems and formatting requirements, making all the final arrangements to let people read the book I wrote, if only in electronic form.
And then, I stalled.