The Writing Journey…is a term that implies far too much direction and planning


If I had more time to write…I’d spend it with my children. Or working out. Or doing asinine, brainless things on the internets.

  • How many times have you sat on Facebook, staring at the News Feed, re-reading the same friggin’ updates?

I think it’s some kind of affective hermeneutics, a cognitive feedback loop where my mind continues to search for new knowledge in the same inane statements. I’m blowing all this brain power trying to deconstruct declarative statements about the meal one of my friends just had. And what really sucks is that I know I’m doing it. I am conscious of the utter uselessness of the endeavor, but I cannot stop.

I should be writing. Real writing—the kind that involves plots and characters and description and dialogue. When I was in school and I had assignments, when someone told me to write and gave me a deadline I wrote some pretty good stuff. And I’d like to think that if I had more time I’d be able to devote some serious blocks of time to writing.

But I have had the time. And I didn’t use it to write creatively. I used it in a lot of other (sometimes productive, sometimes fulfilling) ways. But very little of it was writing. Apparently it’s not as high on my list as I like to think. Except it is. Which is so incredibly frustrating. I wish I’d make my mind up.

This wouldn’t really be a problem if I didn’t have like 5 novels in my head at any given moment. And some short stories. And a screenplay or six. All competing for my limited attention. And driving me a little insane. Or a lot. Ask my wife. No, don’t. I don’t want to hear what she has to say.

In the past I’ve manifested my frustration at my inability to focus by…not focusing. I had, at one point, four blogs, two Twitter accounts, and I was doing a film project with my mom. The only thing that has been moderately successful was the…wait for it…film project. Because, obviously, my mom was able to provide the necessary motivation (e.g. white-hot branding irons) to keep me focused. So. I’ve made a commitment. I’m cutting back on everything so that I can focus better. As of today, I will no longer have four blogs and two Twitter accounts. Nope. I am completely eliminating one whole blog. It’s gone. Kaput.

How’s that for focus?

All the above being said, I do…actually…feel that this time is different. I have both the motivation (internal this time) and the dedication to finish one of my novels. Much of it stems from the wild success of one of my soon-to-be-famous former writing partners. If she can do it, I  know I can. Especially since we both thought I would be first. Well, I will be second.

Starting tomorrow.


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