Things I do Instead of Writing
Lately, I haven't been writing.
Not at all, unless you count grocery lists.
Now, I know that a writer needs to actually write. I know that daily writing is the best way to keep the juju flowing. But I still don't write. And every day that I don't write, is a day that it gets a little harder to get started.
So why don't I just write?
Here's what I do instead.
Do my homework.
Ignore my homework.
Squish ants on my desk.
Get caught in a vortex of shows on Amazon prime.
Get caught in a vortex of clips of a "Red Hot Nickel Ball" burning a path through everything from a block of dry ice to the world's largest gummy bear. (Seriously, it's addictive. Lookit.)
Look up the song stuck in my head.
I have to pee.
I think I have a bug bite.
Find ointment for my bug bite.
Move because my chair is too uncomfortable.
Fall asleep because my bed is too comfortable.
My brain is tired.
My finger hurts.
Ooh, is that a new book?
Busy reading book.
Busy getting mad at Kazuo Ishiguro for making me depressed.
"Best novel of the decade?" Really, TIME?
Busy googling "Never Let Me Go disappointing" to find people who agree with me.
Looking for something less depressing.
Ooh, "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory"! Haven't read that in a while.
Now I want to watch the movie version.
Remember somebody said that Roald Dahl had imperialist views.
Watch the movie. Detect definite imperialist views in the treatment of the Oompa-Loompas.
What smells?
Take out the trash.
Ok, this is it. Definitely going to write now. Definitely, definitely going to write. Definitely.
Shmefinitely... effinitely... does anything rhyme with definitely?
Infinity?
Remember to set up interview for student teaching.
Remember to pay bills.
Remember to organize shoes.
Fall into deep depression because I can't follow my own advice about writing.
Doubt self.
Questioning the purpose of my existence.
Hey, didn't I buy an eBook last week and only read 3 chapters?
Eww. Who writes these romances?
What, exactly, does a "heaving" bosom look like? How does that conjure up anything besides an image of yakking up? "Heave" is not, in my lexicon, a sexy word.
I should write these. They clearly take zero effort, and I spent $0.99 on this. I could probably churn one out in a couple of months.
Is it possible to write a romance when my idea of the perfect date is somebody buying me food and then leaving me alone?
Basically, my ideal boyfriend would be a delivery boy.
Spend hours compiling the perfect playlist.
Watch some sci-fi.
Think, I could write better than this.
Think, no, I clearly can't, because I can't write at all.
Eat.
Cry.
Pray.
Sit at the keyboard and bang my head into the keys dramatically.
Threaten myself: "Ok, if you don't write 150 words, you have to walk down to campus and back up."
Bribe myself: "If you write 300 words, you can buy that album you want." (PS, if anybody feels like buying me a present...)
Cry more.
Yeah, that's more or less where I'm at.
The hardest part of being a writer is, as the very talented and exceptionally dedicated Cris Breechen says, earning your "er". Meaning, you have to actually write.
Right now, I feel like a reader, a watcher, a crier, an eater, a cleaner, a procrastinator, and a failure... but not a writer.
Although technically, I did just write this post.
It's in the small victories, I suppose.
What's your favorite excuse/distraction when you're trying to write (or paint or draw or whatever your artistic medium is)? Why do we do this to ourselves?
Not at all, unless you count grocery lists.
Now, I know that a writer needs to actually write. I know that daily writing is the best way to keep the juju flowing. But I still don't write. And every day that I don't write, is a day that it gets a little harder to get started.
So why don't I just write?
Here's what I do instead.
Do my homework.
Ignore my homework.
Squish ants on my desk.
Get caught in a vortex of shows on Amazon prime.
Get caught in a vortex of clips of a "Red Hot Nickel Ball" burning a path through everything from a block of dry ice to the world's largest gummy bear. (Seriously, it's addictive. Lookit.)
Look up the song stuck in my head.
I have to pee.
I think I have a bug bite.
Find ointment for my bug bite.
Move because my chair is too uncomfortable.
Fall asleep because my bed is too comfortable.
My brain is tired.
My finger hurts.
Ooh, is that a new book?
Busy reading book.
Busy getting mad at Kazuo Ishiguro for making me depressed.
"Best novel of the decade?" Really, TIME?
Busy googling "Never Let Me Go disappointing" to find people who agree with me.
Looking for something less depressing.
Ooh, "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory"! Haven't read that in a while.
Now I want to watch the movie version.
Remember somebody said that Roald Dahl had imperialist views.
Watch the movie. Detect definite imperialist views in the treatment of the Oompa-Loompas.
What smells?
Take out the trash.
Ok, this is it. Definitely going to write now. Definitely, definitely going to write. Definitely.
Shmefinitely... effinitely... does anything rhyme with definitely?
Infinity?
Remember to set up interview for student teaching.
Remember to pay bills.
Remember to organize shoes.
Fall into deep depression because I can't follow my own advice about writing.
Doubt self.
Questioning the purpose of my existence.
Hey, didn't I buy an eBook last week and only read 3 chapters?
Eww. Who writes these romances?
What, exactly, does a "heaving" bosom look like? How does that conjure up anything besides an image of yakking up? "Heave" is not, in my lexicon, a sexy word.
I should write these. They clearly take zero effort, and I spent $0.99 on this. I could probably churn one out in a couple of months.
Is it possible to write a romance when my idea of the perfect date is somebody buying me food and then leaving me alone?
Basically, my ideal boyfriend would be a delivery boy.
Spend hours compiling the perfect playlist.
Watch some sci-fi.
Think, I could write better than this.
Think, no, I clearly can't, because I can't write at all.
Eat.
Cry.
Pray.
Sit at the keyboard and bang my head into the keys dramatically.
Threaten myself: "Ok, if you don't write 150 words, you have to walk down to campus and back up."
Bribe myself: "If you write 300 words, you can buy that album you want." (PS, if anybody feels like buying me a present...)
Cry more.
Yeah, that's more or less where I'm at.
The hardest part of being a writer is, as the very talented and exceptionally dedicated Cris Breechen says, earning your "er". Meaning, you have to actually write.
Right now, I feel like a reader, a watcher, a crier, an eater, a cleaner, a procrastinator, and a failure... but not a writer.
Although technically, I did just write this post.
It's in the small victories, I suppose.
What's your favorite excuse/distraction when you're trying to write (or paint or draw or whatever your artistic medium is)? Why do we do this to ourselves?
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