I’ve never written a blog post in the wee hours. I’m never awake. Tonight I feigned sleeping at 7:30 p.m. so my four-year-old would sleep faster. She did. Then I did too. I awoke at 11:30. Been up since.
I had a beer and listened to dozens of great songs by The Prodigy; The Smiths; The Cult; The Cure, and heaps of other bands that don’t start with The.
I’m amazed tonight at how much I love words. Lyrics, titles of songs, chats I had with my brother on Facebook tonight.
I LOVE words. I love clever conversation. Wittiness… I love that. Writers are like that, aren’t they?
When I contemplate sitting down at the computer and writing one of the books in my head, I just can’t get motivated to do it. A book is a huge project. A book is a part of me. A book hurts to write. It’s an effort. It’s also an exercise in futility.
At least that’s what I keep telling myself over and over.
It shouldn’t be like that. Hell, I’ve written 25+ books already. What is the problem?
I know what the problem is.
This next book must be THE ONE. This next book is the one that I put all my effort into. All my cleverness. My effort. This next book is the one where I BRING MY A-GAME.
And for some reason that is scaring the hell outta me.
There, I said it.
I’ll kill this obstacle in my head. I’m sure I will. There hasn’t been anything that has ever stopped me from doing what I want to do. I’ll kill it and bring it. I’ll crush this self-doubt like I’ve crushed everything in my head that ever tried to slow me down.
My legs are shaking back and forth under the table. Rattling, they’re shaking so bad.
I do this when I am amping myself up to GSD. I can feel anger swelling inside. I will crush this problem and write the book. It is pre-ordained. I’m not going to let my negative thoughts start running the show at this point in the game.
The game has come to a point where I have books to write. Meaningful books. Books that share with people my weird take on life.
I have the tools. I have the time. I have the ideas in my head and all over the wall of my bedroom office. I have the drive to knock this next book out.
It can’t be stopped.
It can’t be…