Day 22 – Unfulfilled Dream, Thy Name is Procrastination.

Procrastination is such an awkward word. And ugly, like the thing itself. It’s also a very serious illness that affects four of every five would be writers and some famous authors too.

I don’t think there is any other endeavour out there that suffers from procrastination as much as writers do. What is it about writing that makes it so hard so simply sit down and write?

And talking about procrastination, I went to make myself a cup of tea (almost ended with a cup of hot sugary water) and then came back to my computer to spend five to ten minutes lost on Facebook.

So obviously social media has also played its part. Before the internet, entertainment wasn’t as readily available as it is now. Yes, there was TV but nobody wrote on their TVs, did they?

Would the solution to social media white rabbit effect be a typewriter? Food for thought.

Either way, when it comes to writing, it’s hard to just get the job done.

I was thinking about this this morning, specifically about writing a novel, and it’s particularly hard to get through that work. A novel is quite a big, ambitious thing to do and it can be a bit daunting because it doesn’t seem to ever end. And then there is editing after…

And that got me thinking about infrastructure. We all now have running water, electricity, phone lines and internet. Someone, one day, decided that digging the ground and put pipes down to bring water to every home in the country. Talk about a monumental amount of work. And yet they got it done.

Humans have re-routed rivers and held the waters, build boats, made a train that goes under the sea… ultimately, it seems that being afraid of writing one book seems a bit petty.

And then there is the constant murmur, which is almost a writer’s soundtrack, about how hard it is go get published. Well, less so now because you can self-publish via Amazon and other services, but of course then you’re a hundred percent responsible, well, for everything.

Regardless, the constant chatter in the mind of a writer is two fold (I can’t type fold, I’ve typed it four times before I got it right): one, ‘this is rubbish and you’re worthless as a writer’ and two ‘nobody will every want to publish that and even if you publish it yourself, nobody will ever buy it’.

Now, one can spend a lot of time reading that sort of article or meme that talks about writing for yourself and that should be enough because it’s so hard to make money from writing (which it is, I’m not saying it isn’t) but it’s a bit of a silly argument. Everybody wants to think that they are writing for somebody else, even if it’s your best friend or your children. If we wanted to write for ourselves, we would just imagine the stories and that’d be that.

And you must wonder, where are you going with this? Nowhere, really, I’m just making time before I start writing.

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