07 January 2009

Maybe later.

Definitions of procrastination:

* noun: the act of procrastinating; putting off or delaying or deferring an action to a later time
* noun: slowness as a consequence of not getting around to it

That sounds about right. I hereby add a third definition to the word: too damn busy. Before you correct me, let me explain. I use my eternally-occupied state to excuse myself from doing things like going to school, writing that best-selling novel, or writing any sort of item past a few pages. Something needs cleaned, or cooked, or changed, or done. Baby. Work. Maintenance of the car and lawn. Cleaning.

Last time I was seriously struck with inspiration, I sat down and began to type. I did not stop for three hours. When I was through, I had a sort of vampire-Stand by Me that spanned almost 4k words. I know I can do better than that, but it was a tasty start. A reason to believe that I have more stories inside me.

In my mind-boggling journey around the internet lately, I've discovered so many fabulous storytellers, and they aren't published. Perhaps they chose to have a family as well. Writing is a selfish profession, much like art. It really doesn't give to anyone around me until it's finished. I turn into a hermit of sorts, introverted to the maximum amount without being dragged from my house screaming and kicking and stabbing nice men in white coats with my trusty pen. I grow quiet and studious, often burying myself in this history book or that, stopping only long enough to hit B&N to buy more of the same.

It's never enough. I never have enough research material. I never have a good enough computer. Or good enough software, and even if I had all of the above, I'd find something wrong in myself. That's just not like me. I need to let that ego I harbor shine and blaze across the span of several hundred pages. Make the women weep, the men jealous, and the young girls fall in love.

I will.

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