Procrastination should be a job with a salary because it’s awful work. Tedious and boring and painful, and it takes skill to do it well.
Every writer I know has this special gift.
Last week I received my much-anticipated developmental editorial report. It’s so official. The problem is that procrastination has taken on editing as an excuse. My brain is just editing and editing and editing the edits, and writing none of it down.
What am I so afraid of?
I’m afraid of being wrong. These characters aren’t just words, they’re people who have lived a life one way and are about to get it tweaked another. Where their lives were simpler and less hectic, they’re about to get a rude awakening and find themselves in a dark alley (not literally…at least I don’t think so). But they will change in subtle ways that will make them better people and in turn make me a better writer.
My writer friends won’t let me wallow in this fog for long. They’ll poke and prod me on my way to imperfection, because if writing is anything, it’s imperfect every time.
My stomach turns until I get a gander at all the fun things I just bought to keep me from procrastinating like: colored sticky notes in every size, and special shaped stickies, and a new journal, some colored tablet paper, index cards (cuz I can always use index cards) and a coffee. Does that not sound like the perfect shopping bag full of procrastination?
And right next to these things is my Editorial Report. Which by the way, was worth every cent. Thank you Sue-Brown Moore.
In the end I’m gonna get an idea, it’s gonna hit the keyboard, and I won’t stop until it’s done. But until then, I’ll sip my cold brew coffee and eat some trail mix and decide what all this colored paper means.