I’m going to lay this out for you plainly. I am a cynical writer (wanna-be author) who should be working on a novel right now rather than blathering on about some nonsense. However, this is what I’m doing instead. I wish I had some advice for all of you out there who are also procrastinating on writing, but alas, I do not.
This blog will be dedicated to my writing journey, whatever that may (or may not) be.
Instead, I’ll tell you about my half-finished projects. I have around six-ish unfinished novels, a few which will never see the light of day. A couple are maybe salvageable.
Why do I not finish projects? The unfortunate thing for me is that I use writing as a form of catharsis. Until I re-frame the purpose of why I write, I don’t think I’ll ever get anything finished.
I have another story idea. I always have another story idea. That’s the problem. Once the grind becomes harder than the actual reasons I’m using writing as catharsis for, I abandon it.
It’s gotten so bad I’ve stopped giving titles to my projects. Though, I’m trying to change that with my most recent story idea.
I have a full time job. I have a 2-year-old. I have a husband. I have two cats, and one best friend. I am typically pretty busy with my job, being a mom, working on my hobbies, etc. that I don’t have time for people. I make time for my son. I make time for my job. My husband would say I don’t make enough time for him. And then there is my writing. I try to fit my life into this cookie-cutter mold where I’m taking care of everyone and everything around me.
I have to make time for myself. But there’s only 24 hours in a day. I should be sleeping right now because I have to get up at 5:30.
My day job is okay. I don’t have much support. I care about the people there, but right now, things are a bit rocky. And I can’t get my act together in one area. By the aligning of the stars, I continue making mistakes and with the wrong people. I’m typically pretty resilient – I don’t know why, maybe it’s my penchant for survival and continual growth. Either way, I feel a little unstable right now in that area.
Random thoughts: Do any of us really have freedom? Why do people who drive trucks such a-holes on the road and then claim everyone around them are bad drivers? Does true compassion exist, or do people hope to get some strange satisfaction out of it? Also, most advertisements you hear are voiced by people just wanting to get paid – they don’t actually believe in the product. Why fall for it?
I’m going to work on my novel now. Enough blathering.