So yesterday, I ended up doing fuck all.
That’s not entirely true, I did some of the edits my cp suggested and I cleaned the dogs’ beds. I did not get more words written on Book 2, nor did I exercise, or paint the trim. I find myself fighting internal battles where one side of me is saying, you lazy ass, just do what you said you were going to do, and the other side is saying, for the love of God, you work 3 jobs, give yourself a day off.
When I first started writing, which was mostly because I was stuck home with a 4 year old, a 2 year old, and an infant in a snow storm and couldn’t get to the library for new books, I always felt like I had to cram my writing in when I could. I dreamed of when the kids would go to school and I could write uninterrupted for hours on end. Of course, when the kids went to school, I went back to work and there went my writing time. Then I used to dream about writing all summer, at least between taking the kids to camp, dance camp, play dates, etc. I figured when they started driving themselves, I’d have more time for writing and could do so at my leisure.
Now, all three have graduated from college, I have an actual office, with a door I can close even, and I’m still not writing for hours and hours on end. I remember reading once the Nora Roberts–the goddess herself–goes to her office and writes for 6-8 hours a day because it’s her job. It’s been a LONG time since I’ve written anything on deadline, and I wonder if that’s part of the problem? I don’t have to get this book finished. There’s no one breathing down my neck clamoring for it to be done. Sure, the characters in my head are a little noisy, but I can drown them out easily enough. Does it really matter if I take a day off to listen to pod casts and read a book?
Yeah, it does.
I guess what it comes down to is self-discipline, self-motivation, and the intrinsic desire to tell my story. I have to come to terms with the idea that even after I write this story, pay to get it professionally edited, (see yesterday’s post for why that’s imperative) pay for the book covers, and figure out how the hell to self-publish it, it may only get read by a handful of people.
Am I writing to make money, to please legions of fans, or because it’s something I need to do to fulfill something inside of me?
I think we all know it’s Door Number 3…