Thursday, August 7, 2014

Navel gazing and the choices made

Wow. My last blog post was also the last month to begin with an "A".

I feel like I should post a GIF of a dancing pig or something, so that at least people stumbling upon this page have a little something to look at.

So - here is where I'd normally start a 500 word rant about, "oh, I SOOOO want to be writing more, and can't just seem to blah blah blah."

Nah.

There will always be reasons not to write. Something on TV, a video game, the internet, the internet, the internet. More and more, I'm accepting it's the choices we make (I make - let's be honest) that determine how much "free time" I have for writing.

When I hang out with my kids and my wife on the weekends, and drop into bed too exhausted to write a single word - that's a good "other than writing" thing. When it's dialling up another episode of Futurama on Netflix instead of picking up a pen - that's something else entirely.

And I am still writing. Slowly. In leaky black pen in an old notebook - but it's happening. I completed a draft recently that I haven't been back to, because I hate it. I completely lost the thread, the characters fell apart, and the plot was just awful, but I pushed through, simply to have the discipline to write "the end" and not leave another widow draft. Also - I really like the monster that came out of the story, it's just that his story is a bit sucky.

Currently, there's a draft for an anthology that looked good, but the same kind of toxic drift is starting on this one as well. Weird.

Finally, I'll also just signed on for another writer's shootout - which I've mentioned here before, is an eight week competition that usually produces about three new stories, with five to seven critical notes on each. (There's actually room left, but the deadline to enter is tonight. Let me know if you want to jump in.)

All in all, the process right now feels like trying to write my way out of a wet paper bag with "Procrastination-induced-funk" written all over it. But it's happening, I think.

Next three posts: Happy as a dancing pig. (promise.)