Open Twitter. Find a thread where an unknowing and naïve person says to a writer,
Writing a book must be so easy!
Bark out loud in shock! Cover mouth because I will wake the kids and the husband who is working nights and then they will invade my space and I will get absolutely nothing done. Revel in liking every single response from all the writers who responded back with hilarious, shocked, pissed off gifs. I love twitter. And there goes another half hour.
Not only do I have a novel to complete drafting—I am
currently taking a course through the Writer’s Digest University and my next assignment
is due in less than 24 hours, my author website needs updating, the bookkeeper
is waiting for our farm books, I still haven’t unpacked the kids back packs
from summer camp, there are half completed renovations in the back yard, the
barn chores need completing, fur balls, laundry heaps and dirty dishes are
threatening to mutiny all over my house, bills need paying, I promised myself I
was going to submit a blog to Andy Rourke’s website and next weekend is the
Muskoka Novel Marathon wrap up and I still haven’t read the books I bought from
the other authors this summer and THIS BLOG IS DUE.
How?
How do I waste so much time? I know it’s a talent, but why do I have to be so darn good at it?
This past week I’ve procrastinated with my writing deadlines more than any other week over the past couple of years, even though I have multiple deadlines for stories and contests in the very near future. I’ve also noticed that I am checking the news more often than I need to. I’ve NEVER EVER been much of a “need-to-know-news-immediately” kind of person, but I am NOW.
Why? What has happened in the past week or so that has changed everything? Read more