Hopelessly, Shamelessly Not Writing

I can give you a list of 98,743 things I need to get done before I can sit down to write. If you have a few extra minutes, I can probably crank out the additional 1,257 items to round out to a solid 100 grand… and yes, doing the math on that could technically count as one of those items.

Anyone who has written for a living, or even just had to write a report for school, knows how easy it is to justify doing a barrage of “other” things before getting to that one sit down and do it project. Many a grad student, myself included, can attest that their house has never been cleaner than when they were taking classes. What is it about something we claim to enjoy that repels us with such force? 

I always wanted to be a writer, even from the time I was small. I distinctly remember sitting at my 4thgrade reading table telling the teacher I was going to be a writer. She said- oh yes, we’ll be seeing you on the news one day. Even then, I knew nope- not a newscaster, a WRITER. Please note, I was young, stupid, and mean no disrespect to newscasters. It’s just not my bag. 

But I love writing. Why am I finding all these excuses not to sit down? Sitting down is the hardest part. Once I get started, I’m usually fine. It’s overcoming the inertia. I keep hearing that you shouldn’t wait to be inspired. That sitting down to write is like exercising a muscle. Even if it’s complete shit, just sit down and write. 

Well, here we are! I’m putting my shit down – and it’s most definitely shit – but it’s written! Here’s hoping flexing my muscles gets easier. 

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