In the world is to not write’. ~William Goldman
You would think that in ‘these difficult times’ where we’re all adapting to ‘the new normal’ (two cliches that I already despise) that there would be infinite time to write, all the time one could ever want or need.
Sure. Sure there is.
But William Goldman was right. The easiest thing to do is not write.
Inertia sets in. Momentum is nearly impossible to build. It’s simpler, less painful to continue down the Youtube rabbit hole. See what someone had for lunch today on Facebook. Do the Google and spend an hour tracking down the history and evolution of the rifled musket.
Often, I find myself preferring to clean a corner of the garage or reorganize my bookshelves or strip paint from some old furniture that ‘has’ to be done RIGHT NOW rather than write.
I’m still struggling to get back in the routine of writing daily. I start out with the best intentions…
Today I am going to write! I declare… right after I read the paper and have a cup of coffee. I shan’t be any good until that happens.
Then the wife needs help with something. Hanging curtains or a picture or something. That gets you out of writing for maybe an hour.
I’m ready to write… but the dogs need treats. I need a shower. Right after those two things. I’ll get right to work…
Hey, that song that’s now stuck in my head. Who sang it? What album is it on? Getting those questions answered devolves into a thorough reshuffling of the vinyl shelf. Alphabetical isn’t going to work. Chronological is so much better…
And so on and so forth.
Next thing you know, it’s midnight and you’re trying to decide if it’s time for bed or you can make it through another video in the series about sharpening the blades in your block plane.
You don’t own a block plane. At least I don’t.
It’s too bloody late to write now. I’ll knock it out first thing in the morning.
Right after a cup of coffee and the paper. That’ll wake me up. For sure…
Seriously, the thing that is still a struggle, even with nothing else (like work) taking up my time, is sitting down and writing on a daily, or even near daily basis. A good week is four days. A typical week is two. A bad week is one. Or less.
I wrote today, so I don’t feel guilty about ‘talking about writing’ instead of actually writing. That’s the worst. Talking about it instead of doing it.
The funny thing is, the doing isn’t so hard. A thousand-plus words a session. Every time. It’s the making up my mind to do it. The sitting down with an open notebook and putting the pen in my hand. Once that’s done, it’s all downhill from there.
Maybe part of it is adjusting to the new routine. This is only Week Two of not having any place to be. My wife and still getting used to being around each other 24/7 for the first time in years. It isn’t hard – it’s not like we don’t like each other or anything. But it’s all fresh and new and a little daunting.
That’s the current struggle, anyway. This week’s struggle. Next week my excuse will be the lines in my notebook are the wrong color blue, or the dogs are looking at me funny. Something will come up, I’m sure.
I’ll keep working on it. I’m sure I’ll figure something out. I did before.
I’ll let the people that read this (both of you) know what comes of the effort.
~James