The hour before 8pm, where I have decided that I will write everyday for the month of November grips me with this rush of anxiety that is like the anxiety felt when one quits smoking. I’ve had a lot of experience with that last idea (I’ve quit smoking about 5 times in my life, not unlike Mark Twain).
Giving up smoking is the easiest thing in the world. I know because I’ve done it thousands of times. – Mark Twain
And I always crave it a little more when I have a notebook in my hands — or a cup of coffee…getting side tracked.
I’ve scheduled time to write this month. I’ve made a point to start each session off with a post (except for one time where I pushed the post after…mistake). There are moments leading up to the time where I force myself in to the office, shut the door, put in the headphones and turn on the computer –where I would rather be doing anything else. Going to the dentist, washing all the pots (which was my escapism tonight), making dinner, vacuuming, or literally all the things I hate.
I’m not sure why I allow all of this build up. But I do fear sitting down to write. I fear what I write will never be read or somehow more horribly that it will be and it will be judged and the court will decide I am a horrible writer and human. Not sure what court, but these are fears or tiny paranoia. They swim up and down the surface of my mind.
But so far, I’ve made time to write, I’ve pushed everything else out of the way even when it wasn’t the best idea (there were 2 nights where I was a little low on the word count due to interruptions). Here’s to the last 9 days of November and where they might take me.