You get the reference, the angel on one and devil on other, giving advice.
The angel would be on the left shoulder, of course.
Left: Now that you have just two weeks before starting that new job, make good use of the time to establish good habits to carry through come November when you'll have half a day free before going to work.
Right: Screw that! Nap! Then click on that naughty story site and react naturally.
Left: Write your own stories! Geesh, you've complained for years about Candi thwarting your writing by taking up your time and hawkeyeing everything you do. Here's your chance to pursue that dream. You have so many story ideas jotted down, a complete erotic novel in need of a final going over, a mainstream novel half-finished but with many notes on where to go with it and even a sketch of the sequel.
Right: Eh! What good are they? There's no market for erotica. Remember that website you like? Thousands of people are writing stories for that and many other sites right now, eager to give them away for free. Why would anybody want to buy more of the same?
Left: Remember the other erotic stories site? The one you wrote and gave away stories on? You were at the top of the ratings from readers. Years later ou were still getting inquiries about finishing the novel you were posting there chapter by chapter until you pulled it off to try to sell it.
Right: And recall you never made the slightest attempt to sell it. You did some rewriting, and sure it's probably better now, and even has an ending. But it just sits on your drive waiting for you to die and your kids to toss that obsolete machine in the trash without even looking at the precious gems and gemlets in the Fiction folder.
Left: That Fiction folder is your salvation, man. Seize the day! You know your greatest obstacle is your own inertia. You know when you just start writing, you enjoy the hell out of it.
Right: Hey! Watch your language!
Left: Who gives a fuck about whether anybody buys it or not? (Sticking tongue out toward right.) Finish that detective novel and then think about what to do with it. You could write the erotica and give it away. You used to do that and it was a vibrant time of life.
Right: It was vibrant because being an online erotic stories author is a chick magnet, or at least it was at the turn of the century. You were driven by the ratings and, more so, by the women who wrote on the discussion board and then email to bolster your ego.
Left: But, uh .... Okay, I got nothing. Hmm. Okay, how about a change of subject. Get out on the bicycle. Get in shape before starting work. You've let Candi's jealousy of you doing anything she can't do at the same time grind you to a halt on exercise.
Right: Well, it is raining outside right now.
Left: Then go to the gym.
Right: She'll drown you in anxiety about that even more.
Left: You've fought women telling you what to do all your life.
Right: And are weary of fighting. That's why you are still with this one. Worn out, doubting you could ever be with a woman again, more averse to conflict than ever. Just give up. Anyway, she's been supporting your ass the past couple of months. Just be a happy house boy and do her bidding.
Left: Shit! Now I'm depressed. Going to take a nap.
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