We’ll be wrapping up our guest blogger series answering the questions: Why (on earth) do I write? and Why do I care if anyone reads what I write? on March 21 and 28th. In the meantime, you’re stuck with me today…
It’s flu season, and I think I have definitely come down with a virus. One that, as a writer, I have exceptionally low immunity to: W5T20.
Otherwise known as the work 5 minutes, take a 20 minute break virus or, in non-medical terms, the procrastination bug.
I am currently working on a massive assignment: ghost-writing a book. The deadline is the end of March. I’m somewhere between 1/3 and ½ done. It’s March 7th, meaning I have 24 days to write between ½ and 2/3 of a book.
My house has never been cleaner.
My family is in seventh heaven because I’ve been feeding them gourmet dinners for days now.
I’ve had coffee with friends I haven’t seen in months (or years) and feel completely caught up with everyone I’ve ever known at the moment.
My book isn’t being written.
I was encouraged to come across this picture on a website, of a guy who clearly isn’t getting anything done either:
I cling to the hope that, like the shoemaker, I will open the document one of these days and find, to my great delight, that little elves have invaded my laptop in the night and written several (or more), perfectly polished and inspiring chapters on my behalf.
To the great frustration of my husband, who has planted his flag firmly in the “better to do things early and not wait until the last minute because you never know what might come up” camp, I have always worked best under pressure. A looming deadline serves as a strict taskmaster, cracking the whip of productivity, if not genius. (Because genius, my wonderful husband assures me, takes time. A lot of time.)
Time I am rapidly running out of.
I would like this book to be done, but more than that, I would like it to be excellent.
Not for any personal glory, as my name likely won’t even be on it, but because my gift is a gift from God and I never want to treat that lightly and produce anything less than my best.
So I’ll end this post here. It’s the last in a long line of procrastinational (I know, not a word, although, in an act of uncharacteristic defiance, I have “added it to dictionary”) activities I have engaged in this morning. I will now open up the manuscript I’m currently (avoiding) working on, and get to it.
Maybe, if I work hard now and don’t leave it all to the last minute, a little bit of excellence, possibly even genius, might creep in.
Especially if those darn elves ever decide to show up.
Press on, my friends. Press on,