I will not run myself down all the time.
I will not tell myself that every good remark I’ve gotten is a lie.
I will not assume that Stephen King, Max Brooks, and Neil Gaiman are excellent writers by virtue of their names.
I will not act like I don’t deserve to see my work in print.
I will not indulge that fantasy that elves are going to come over in the middle of the night to do my work for me.
I will not blame my lack of progress on others, including friends, family, and Mr. T.
I will not get drunk, because chemicals don’t give birth to creativity. Music, however, is fair game.
I will not sit around waiting for my career to begin like Walter White sat around waiting for his life to start.