It’s another cold, snowy day. It’s actually a very pretty snow and I’d appreciate its beauty more if I didn’t have to drive to work in it. The roads are slick and icy so I’ll just take my time and putt-putt along.
I’ve been working on my current novel but not giving it the time and attention it needs. I’ve been writing it in fragments; a page here, a paragraph or two there, then I’ll have to stop and research something and then I find myself on Facebook three hours later. In other words, I am easily distracted. I need to develop more discipline to sit my butt down in a chair and actually write. I have writing time in the evening and on the way home from work I am psyched about sitting down and immersing myself in my book. Then, I get home and start catching up on dishes or laundry, cooking dinner, and doing a hundred other things. Next thing I know, it’s 10 PM and I’m getting ready for bed. The guilt of not writing sets in and it festers as I am laying in bed trying to sleep while scenes from my novel, not yet written, voice themselves in my head. With a renewed vigor, I promise myself that starting tomorrow, I am going to start writing every evening. The next day, wash, rinse, repeat. Gah!!!
It’s time to buckle down and get serious. This book isn’t going to write itself. Besides, my characters are yelling at me wanting to know why I’m not paying attention to them. I think they have abandonment issues.