It is a sad state of affairs when you go to the book store, walk over to the “how to write a book” reference section and discover you have read most of the books in the section.
Can you guess one of my favorite forms of procrastination?
If only I had a pen with good smooth movement, I would write my novel faster.
If only I had a fancy notebook, I would create more novel ideas and scenes.
If only I have a one of those tiny laptops, I would carry it in my bag and work on my novel when ever the mood struck me.
If only I had a writing area, a creative space all my own , I would be inspired and the novel would just flow out with ease.
If only I had enough money to get rid of my day job, I would work on my novel non-stop and finish it at last.
If only I won the lottery…
Until then… I have a hotel pen, a half used notebook my kids didn’t need, a laptop that crashes, a kitchen table with sticky spots and a few minutes to write after the work day is done and the kids are in bed.
“If I only I had…”
But the truth is I already have everything I need, including the relentless drive to write.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll buy a lottery ticket…just for good measure.
Carolyn See wrote a book on writing called, “Making the literary life”.
Chapter one…”Keep it to yourself”. She goes on to explain, as much as your friends and family love you, they really don’t want to hear all about the great American novel you intend to write, the plot of this book, the fascinating characters you have created and the torments of being a writer.
I would just like to say, “Where were you 10 years ago Ms. See, when I had the great idea to write a novel?” It’s too late now!
I have been torturing my friends, family and especially my poor spouse for years and years now. I have drug my family through the tortures of 5 incomplete novel, several unenthusiastic attempts at article writing and countless attempts at writing different genres that crashed and burned in the early stages.
I can see the wear and tear on all the people that are exposed to my writing dreams day in and day out. When I swear this is the year, I get a smile, a pat on the shoulders and a, “Yes, I bet you will finish this year for sure.” But behind the weak smile I see it, the thought of, “Yes good gracious finish a novel already, because I can’t take another year of talking about a book I’ll never get to read and hearing all about the lives of made up characters that have nothing to do with me.
So yes Ms. See, your book is a little late to the party, where were you when I had this hair brain scheme to be a writer..hmmm?
The Failing Novelist 