Why am I not writing?

I should be.  Right now.  I’ve moved into the new place.  Things are unpacked so the clutter of boxes and furniture that isn’t where it should be is no longer an excuse. 

I’ve done the family thing to death this past week or more, so I should have a day or so where no one wants to see me.

My workspace is arranged.

I even have two really strong short stories I’m working on right now.  One was making me cry as I wrote it last week.  (Hopefully that means it’ll at least move others – I don’t expect them to cry over it, but I’d like them to feel something when they read it.  It’s my attempt at combining a weird idea and deep emotion.)

So, see, I should be writing.

And yet.

Here I sit.  Finding reasons to procrastinate.

I just printed off all of my rejection letters and put them into piles (form vs. personal).  Did I need to do that?  NOPE.  (I already have a spreadsheet where I track the number of form vs. personal by story and by market.  Yes, I am very good at pretending to work.)

This is the challenge of being a new writer.

When you’re in school (well, at least in the U.S. – I hear they do things differently in the UK) you have midterms and papers and class discussions and finals and things that require you to either act or fail.  When you work you have work hours and bosses and clients and project managers with deadlines and plans they need to update.  All of it driving you to do things.

But when you write and you’re not under contract and you don’t have fans, it’s just you.  Maybe, if you’re really lucky, you have a nagging significant other who would like you to contribute to the rent who bites their lip and gives a small little nod when you explain that you were rearranging the silverware drawer all day rather than writing.  (Although Chuck Wendig did mention how negative motivation is not sustaining…)

But if you don’t have anyone to remind you of what you’re supposed to be doing, it all falls squarely on you to stay focused.  And that can be hard to do.

I will bust out of this funk, probably later today.  But I’m not quite there yet.  Maybe I’ll use this time to transcribe the rest of the passages I underlined when reading The Prince last month.  (Highly useful information for my future endeavors…  Haha.)

On a random side note…one of my friends who beta’ed for me and who I beta’ed for on their first novel just wrote to say thank you because reading my novel had inspired them to write a speculative fiction novel.  So, see?  Even if I never see publication maybe my pernicious influence will spread through the slush pile and through my beta readers and through this blog until my slightly skewed take on the world is everywhere…*cue evil laugh*

(Which reminds me of one of my short story ideas that I need to write…just have to figure out how to make that one work…hmm…)

About M. H. Lee

M.H. Lee is a speculative fiction writer currently residing in Colorado whose stories are sometimes dark, sometimes funny, sometimes darkly funny, but hopefully always thought-provoking and entertaining.
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One Response to Why am I not writing?

  1. karmicangel says:

    Bust out my friend. In your own time but BUST OUT!

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