Saturday, December 08, 2001

I failed to get the coding right. Maybe when I have more time I can get it right...

I haven't posted to my blog for awhile. This time it is only partly my laziness. I had to do some serious thinking. I attended an S.L. Viehl class last Friday night at Holly Lisle's site ( If you haven't checked it out, do so now. Go on, I'll grab a soda while you are gone. GO NOW! *g* ) Anyhow, towards the end of class, we were talking shop, which is always facinating and even more so because Sheila has an interesting outlook on the business. Some of the things she said, especially just the sheer amount of material she puts out per year, really got some stuff brewing in my mind.

First off, why am I not more prolific than I am? I type fast. This is a big question in the scheme of things. Because the thing I notice is that those who write more than one book a year have the greater odds of improving. AND they have more work to sell. One of my dreams is to not only break out in Fantasy (possibly SF, but I'm not counting on that.) but I also want to try my hand at writing Romance and maybe a literary novel. At the pace I am currently writing at, I write about a page and a half a day. That's not bad. BUT, I am perfectly capable of writing 5 pages a day. And for all the things I want to accomplish in my writing, I need to write more than that.

So why am I not writing more? Is it the day job? Sometimes, but I'm pretty good at forgetting the day job the moment those sliding doors close behind me. Lack of time? Nope. I work a six hour shift every day. That leaves 18 free hours and Jeff (my fiance) doesn't demand any more attention than your average house cat in a good mood. Gotta love a man who demands his free time and insists that you have it, too! So with those excuses eliminated, what reason does my lack of effort leave? Pure and simple laziness.

I am too lazy to do the very hard work it takes to write and finish a book. I am too lazy to do my pages every night before doing the "fun" stuff like surfing the internet, playing video games, and vegging out with a DVD. I am too lazy to nail my ass to the chair because I'd rather be playing. The problem is I love writing. It's my escape. I think my stuff is good enough to publish. So why do I avoid it? Because its real work and it terrifies me that I might actually go somewhere with this.

I tried to reason with myself. I could always go back to school, plod through four or five years, and end up in a profession that I could make money at and expend as little effort as possible to do. That would be the easy way. But I don't want to walk through my life brain dead. Denying myself this dream would be cutting off my mind. I've watched people I love wither and fade because they lost the dream. I won't become that. I want this more than anything I've ever wanted.

So, if I want it this bad, I need to get to work. No more excuses. No more procrastinating because I'm scared. I am going to write my pages every day. I am going to work my ass off to make this dream come true. The excuses are gone. The biggest one, my job, is gone within the next week. I'm switching to a third shift job working the front desk of a motel. No co-workers. Big plus.

I'm holding myself accountable. I love my writing. I want to be able to do this and touch someone with what I have to say or piss someone off with my views. I want to hold my published book up in those who said I'd never make it and laugh. If I don't achieve this dream, I don't want it to be because I didn't work hard enough to get it. So, if you'll excuse me, I have some writing to do.