I don’t understand. I’ve had a couple of short stories accepted for publication. I have a nice little desk and my nice little story ideas. I’ve written three books and have plans for a few more. I have a job I like that leaves me time to pursue this writing thing. So how did I end up here?
It’s ten o’clock on a Tuesday night and all I want to do is go to sleep. Or watch TV. Or go have a beer or see a movie or sit in the park and stare at crazy people or do anything really other than write. I really just want the option to not have to write. But somehow I don’t have that. Myself from ten weeks ago decided that I would write a story every two weeks and somehow I’ve been managing that and it isn’t a complete and catastrophic failure so of course I’m going to keep doing it. And I’m really looking forward to when I get to publish that next story except that between then and now I have to do a whole bunch of this writing stuff. And the heat is back as well as the humidity and I go outside and my head instantly looks like a mop that was just used to clean up a vanilla milkshake and ITunes is on random and keeps cycling into Cars songs, and not good Cars songs but much much later Cars songs off of the tail end of their Greatest Hits. I’m not real sure why I leave songs I don’t like on my ITunes. In the back of my head I’m always worried that someday I’m suddenly going to absolutely need to hear a certain song that I’ve hated my entire life. But surely the entire Jimmy Buffet box set isn’t needed. I don’t think Jimmy Buffet even knows every song on the Jimmy Buffet box set.
The problem is if I get to a deadline and any one of these stories is something less than what I could have made it into considering the time it’ll eat at me like nothing you could possibly imagine. But everything is condensed into some strange Costanza-esque form of writing where you have to do the opposite of what you think is normal because normally I’d be tinkering around inside of the story by now but that was back when I had plenty of time to let it sit after I had put something down to see what else came along. Now I need to make sure I’ve got a nice hunk of story worked out before I dive in, I think, so I’m more inclined to stay away from the story for longer than I’d ever think possible and not write.
So why am I sitting at my desk?