Let’s write about writing, shall we? And how lately, I just haven’t? You’ve heard it before, I know. And in my defense, I’ll tell you that I wrote an article for a local rag last week, and I’ve got an article due next week for a national one.
But to the real writing: The Big Book and the little book and the one that’s germinating and about to poke a green tendril out of the ground…. That’s a lot of writing to be doing, and a lot of writing that I’ve been avoiding.
Honestly, it’s not even like I’ve been actively running away. It’s just that when I’m home and alone, I’d rather be spinning, because it’s the new addiction, don’tcha know. I could and should write in the wee hours at work. That’s always my goal. I get a forty minute break and I could get a good chunk of writing done then, but I haven’t been taking my break lately. I could get out my computer right now. It’s hiding below my work terminal and I just stubbed my toe on it. But every night, zero-dark-thirty rolls around, and it’s finally quiet, and I’m finally off the police radio, and my brain is zapped and I gape at the work screen instead.
Yeah, I guess that’s running away.
It is, isn’t it? Grrr.
Oh, my lazy, lazy self. And I think I’ve recently figured it out — I always do consider myself lazy even though god knows most wouldn’t. I knit a lot and I spin a lot and my house is always neat and clean (sick, yeah) and the bills are paid and usually I run some during the week, and heaven knows I sneak Lala in wherever/whenever I can. But when I don’t write I’m being lazy. It’s what I love best, what I want to do most. When I write, I can lie on the couch doing NOTHING and feel happy about it. When I write, I’m less driven in all other areas, and that can be very useful. Dust bunnies are our friends.
I used to get my writing done when I woke up. RIGHT when I woke up. I’m talking coffee in hand, computer on, tapping out words before the brain screams NO! Okay. I should listen to myself. Today, this afternoon, after my day-sleep, I’ll do that. No email, no blogs until the work is done. And I’ll tell you if I did or not. Damn, I should make a little chart with boxes or something and check them off on days I Really Write. Shame is a seriously strong motivator, indeed. I’ll use anything at this point. Only I don’t know how to write that kind of code.
Or I’ll just keep rambling on and on and on in blog-format and call it writing, which it kind of is, and kind of isn’t. Y’know?
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