Why I’m Dragging My Feet
I didn’t write yesterday. I didn’t write much the day before. And I’m dragging my feet about writing today. So I sat here asking myself why. What am I waiting for? Why don’t I just sit down and write? And it hit me.
The answer is a two-parter. The first part is that I was on a roll. I was cranking out nearly 8,000 words a day. I had almost finished the book in 9 days. And then things started happening. My neck (which still bothers me more than normal) messed up and caused me to miss a couple days. Then, my pc messed up and I lost a few days there. With my groove gone, it was hard to get back into it the way I was before. I’d lost my mojo. The same thing happened last month when I was writing Rage. I was turning out page after page like an assembly line. Then my grandma died and it took me a couple weeks to get back at it. Once I lose my rhythm, it’s VERY hard to get it back.
The second part is related to my procrastination habit. Yes, I like to procrastinate. I keep meaning to do something about it, but, well, you know. I keep putting it off. But what I realized this morning as I sat here taking a good, hard look at myself, is that I’m procrastinating now because I’m at the end of the book. I love to finish a novel, but I hate to see it end. Knowing that I’m about to write the end is hard. I don’t know why I think I can prolong the inevitable. It has to be done. No matter how much I hate to do it, I have to wrap it up. But knowing this doesn’t make it any easier.
So as I sit here now, writing this no doubt in an attempt to continue prolonging the necessary, I realize that I have to do it. I have to write today, no matter how long the list of other things I could be doing is. I have to finish that book. I have to. My readers await. So, that being said, I’m off to finish my sixth novel.
Wish me luck.
Until next time, read something.