I’m worried that I might be setting my goals a little too high. It’s a fine line between motivational goals to keep on target and being unrealistic which leads to stress and bad writing.
The problem is I’m quite an impatient person. I think that, because of all the years I’ve wasted, I’m now counting every second that I’m not working on my project and my word count isn’t going through the roof as nothing less than pure failure.
WIFE: “I’m going to bed”
ME: “Okay. I’m going to stay up and try and get this draft finished.”
WIFE: “Don’t stay up too late. You’ve got work in the morning.”
ME: “I know. But I’ve got to get this done. It’s important.”
WIFE: “I know it’s important but you’ve still got to sleep”
Can you guess what happened next? The wife went to bed and got a good nights sleep while I stayed up until 1:30am. The next day at work I was shattered. Zombie Brian.
I am so determined to avoid the ‘Demons of Distraction’ and get this done by Christmas that it’s causing me to lose sleep. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I’d lit that firework under my ass and was now smashing through the brick wall of procrastination.
But it’s been tougher than I thought it would be when I started this back in February. That was almost four months ago; a third of the way to my self-picked deadline and I feel like I’m miles away.
The biggest problem I have is that there is always something to do. Move house, keep an eye on my son (he’s walking now so it’s very hard to sit at the computer if he’s off exploring), have dinner, wash up after dinner, watch Game of Thrones (I know but have you seen it? Amazing!), sell belongings at car boot sale (it rained).
I’ve recalled the advice that says even 30 minutes of writing a day, just 1000 words, and it all adds up. But I can’t stop telling myself that it’s not enough.
I read the blogs I’m following and I see rookie authors talk about all their projects in the past tense and I’m envious. I wish I had my own back catalogue of work to show off, to put up for sale. I wish people had read my stories whether they loved them or hated them. I wish people were messaging me every day asking when the third [Project Death] book is coming out or that they just posted fan-fiction based on something of mine (this is one of my three author dreams).
I want it all now.
If I had a time machine I would go back to ‘College Brian’, punch him in the face and scream at him to drop Art and Math, stop wasting his time and mine with the girlfriend (spoiler: she was a big distraction and it doesn’t work out!) and just get words on pages.
But I can’t. Hind sight is a wonderful thing but it ain’t no time machine.
At least I have been consistent with the blog, of that I’m proud. I really didn’t think I would make it past the first month but its sixteen posts later and I’m still going. I know you could say that I should use that time to write Uncanny Tales instead but it’s becoming a little therapeutic writing these articles. I’m able to admit things much more honestly to myself by writing it down, just like this post.
I’m also trying to get out there and meet fellow writers online but I’m not brilliant at it. I’ve built up a nice little list of blogs by indie authors and I’ve started mingling a little on comments sections. It’s all well and good reading other peoples articles and books for guidance but it would be nice to have a friendship with someone that has a clue what I’m going through. My world is empty of anyone who writes. Friends and family are as supportive as they can be but there will always be that limit.
And now I sound desperate and needy. Apologies.
I guess I’ll just have to keep going and see what happens come December. I hope I’ve managed to get out of this rut. I hope I got a book out there for people to read and enjoy.
“I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope.”
See you in seven.