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form of exercise, I realize it’s time to change the music in my iPod. I’m bored with what’s there. I would rather swim, honestly. I would like to be on my bike. But running works for me now. And I’ve become so conditioned to it that last week, when my iPod battery died, I played some music in my head and finished the workout.
    Could I do that every time? Hell, no. But I know how to make myself go out for a daily run now—and how to enjoy it. Set the iPod on shuffle and see what songs come up.
    It took me fifteen years to find a form of exercise I can do every day, rain or shine, one that I will do. And what gets me out there now isn’t the exercise or the need for it.
    It’s the half an hour of music. Which I love.
    So the most important aspect of discipline isn’t discipline at all. It’s this:
    4. Find the love. Find what you love about what you do, and channel that each and every day. Acknowledge it too. When I finish a run, I check in with myself. Inevitably, I feel better when I quit than I did when I started. I’ve told Dean that, and sometimes he’s gotten me outside by reminding me of it. (I have to tell you, it sometimes pisses me off that I feel better after a run when I felt so crummy before the run.) Celebrate your achievement, even if that achievement is just getting to your desk.
    Celebrate with something you enjoy.
    I used to celebrate a day’s writing by reading. Then I started editing, and reading ceased to be a reward for several years. In those years, I celebrated with a good movie or a guilty-pleasure TV show. Now I’m back to celebrating with reading.
    Which is what I’m going to do now.
    Oh, by the way, I’m no longer groggy from the nap, although I still feel under par. I did run today, and felt better afterwards (dammit!). And I got this section of the Guide done, two days early. I’ll post it late tomorrow, which will be one day early. Then I’ll get my day off. With cake.
    That’s my reward, along with all the fun things planned for that day.
    And that was more than enough to get me into my chair today—even though I didn’t want to be here.

    Kristine Kathryn Rusch— http://www.kristinekathrynrusch.com
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6. NaNoNoNoNoNoMo
    By Harley Jane Kozak
    http://www.harleyjanekozak.com

    This month William—yes, our William, or that William, or that *!@# William, as I now think of him—talked me into NaNoWriMo. It sounds like a new flavor of Haagen-Dasz, doesn’t it? Or an active volcano?
    Don’t I wish.
    NaNoWriMo is National Novel Writing Month. Where participants—and any idiot can join, William, it’s not like we’re special—vow to write 50,000 words by November 30. Which is about 170 manuscript pages.
    “Make no mistake,” the NaNoWriMo website says. “You will be writing a lot of crap.”
    I’ve got that part down.
    After taking the plunge (why? why?) I was a day late, because William didn’t begin haranguing me until he’d gotten a head start, and also, it took me a day just to read the NaNoWriMo website. My strategy then became to not think FIFTY THOUSAND WORDS. Because I’m no Nora Roberts. Or James Patterson. (Not that James Patterson is James Patterson.) I kept that “You will be writing a lot of crap” motto close to my heart and eked out 800 words by November 3. 800 different words, I might add, as you’re not supposed to write one word over and over fifty thousand times. But there’s no rule (aside from the rule of good writing) that prevents me from saying something is “very, very” and “really really” whatever it is. I do that very, very often.
    Another rule: you must write a novel from scratch. No recycled prose. Some authors cheat, but I was raised by nuns, so I closed the file on my real novel-in-progress, started a new document, named it The Khan Man and just continued with where I’d left off. Chapter One begins mid-sentence and doesn’t even pretend to be a first chapter. William was all excited about me writing a Star Trek novel,