Last night I realized that what I truly need to kick my writing in the ass is deadlines. I finished the first story right after work and then worked on pounding out the second until J. got home. At that point I realized that finishing it in time for the contest had been a moot point, because I was at 3,700 words and not even halfway through the story.
Self: Wait a second. *recounts* *recounts again* *recounts the work on the first story* I JUST CRANKED OUT NEARLY SIX THOUSAND WORDS IN A FEW HOURS?! I never knew one's brain could actually fall over and wheeze. Sure, many people do this all the time, but I'm definitely not used to it. It's like running a marathon with no training.
Of course, now the big, endurance-muscled brains of several people on my friends list are going to come snicker at my wussy little grey matter and kick sand in its face. ;)