Going to the Mountain

Where have I been? Not writing, unfortunately. Mostly just watching Fringe.

Here was my plan. Spend all of 2019 getting Cold Blooded smooshed into something that people could actually read, and then spend 2020 trying to find people to read it.

But here we are. It's mid-August and I have very little to show for it.

I very much want to write this book. Or rather, I want to have written it. But I just don't seem to have the motivation or the discipline to do it.

I know I need to sit down every day and write. I know it. But what do I do? Play games on my phone and watch TV. Just passively absorb entertainment rather than actively creating something.

And why? Why, when I want to write this book, do I sabotage myself instead?

I can't blame it on work, or my social life (Ha! What's that?), or the stupid part of my brain that insists that no one wants to read my dumb vampire book anyway. I could write it. I have the time. I'm just not doing it.

I tell myself that I'm tired, that I'm taking a break from it for a little bit. But at this point I've been on break longer than I've been working on the book.

All right, no more procrastinating. I'm going to go write for an hour or so. Right now. Be right back.

*

Okay, I'm back. I just wrote about 1,100 words, and have finally gotten to the point in the story where things get… messy. My favorite! I have forced it beyond the tedious setup and into the action. I can work with this. And I even left it off in the middle of the action, because A) it gives me somewhere to go right away when I come back, and B) I need some time to work out the logistics of this fight scene, and it's 3:30 in the morning.

See, I just have to sit down and do it. When motivation will not come to you, you must get up off your ass and go to it.

I'm trying to get back to a weekly posting schedule, so in theory, I'll see you next week.

But first, I'll leave you with a favorite line from today:

Those were the days. Back when everything was simple and I was still alive.