You wanna hear me say it?!
Would that make you happy?!
You wanna hear me admit to what we all know I did but hoped I might be disciplined enough not to do!?
FINE! I’ll say it. Why not, right!?
I DIDN’T GET ANY WRITING DONE TODAY,
Fiction writing, that is.
I woke up at six o’clock in the morning (as has been my routine for the last two weeks) with excitement in my veins. Today would be the day. Today would be the day I cruise through five chapters of Snowe Storms and begin my official descent into the Writer’s Trench.
I threw down an Insanity workout (don’t knock it ’til you’ve damn-near died fighting through it), took a shower, made some coffee, and plopped my whooped, but taut, ass down at my desk for my a fiction writing sesh.
However, seeing as this “write a blog post a day” thing is new to me, I was still behind on my previous day’s blog post (oops, I did it again, amiright?).
SO, instead of writing any fiction whatsoever, I found myself neck deep in Noveldom blog posts until, much to my surprise, my husband’s half-naked, sleepy body walked past my office door.
*Cue dramatic head-cock to the side*
“Da fuck time is it?!”
And just like that, faster than the wit of a half-starved coyote but slower than the speed of an arrogant little roadrunner, I lost my entire morning.
“BUT NO MATTER, I’VE STILL GOT ALL DAY,” I IGNORANTLY MUSED INTO MY COFFEE MUG
My coffee mug however, ever the silent wench she is, said nothing and allowed me to lure myself into the false prospect of spending the entire day glued to my notebooks or laptop, pumping out my storyline like a spider possessed.
But that was not to be the case.
Instead, husband and I found ourselves wandering the streets of Puerto Vallarta doing what most American expats do when in Mexico for Cinco de Mayo: popping cold drinks, devouring all the fresh tacos, meandering through the sandy cobblestone streets, and gawking at sunburned tourists while perched under the shade of a palm tree on the Malecon.
And so, day five will live on in infamy as the day I tried to be productive during a random holiday and found myself easily sidetracked by anything and everything that could possibly pull me away from my writing.
HERE’S TO A PRODUCTIVE MONDAY & THE HOPE THAT ALL MY DAWDLING IN THE LAST THREE DAYS WILL PAY OFF
Ultimately, writing a novel is hard, long, arduous work and while it would be fantastic to have the writing stamina of a dedicated novelist who loves the smell of their own farts so much they’d rather die in that dutch oven than leave their office for anything, I’ll happily settle for being the dedicated novelist who only somewhat cares for the smell of her own farts and, thus, leaves her office chair somewhat regularly for literally anything else to do.
I’m not saying that I don’t love writing (because I super do) or that it’s too difficult to enjoy the process (because it really isn’t), just that, life is fascinating and if you spend the whole time with your face in a notebook of glued to a screen, even if you end up producing amazing work, you’ll have missed out on all the other interesting fart smells around you…does that make sense?
You feel me?
I know you feel me.
Perhaps, you even….smell me?
Until next time, my fart-filled, swashbuckling comrades!