As I type this I am sitting in my office with about five things I should be doing, but for one reason or another cannot do at this moment, so I will write a blog post instead.
As many of you know (and I use the term “many” to denote the two people who read this blog…) I got into the habit of writing my novel on weekday evenings from 10pm-midnight sitting in a Tim Hortons dreaming of things that have never happened. It was a good system, it got the book written, almost on schedule. It had no significant drawbacks except removing me from my home and wife and causing a little sleep deprivation from time to time. Then I finished the book and have not been back to that Tim Hortons to write since. At first that was fine, I had a lot of typing to do, but then last night happened.
At just after 10 o’clock I grew incredibly restless, I was almost bouncing. My mom asked me what was wrong, and honestly I couldn’t tell her, because I didn’t know. I was bored. TV sucks at the best of times but particularly during a WGA strike. I had watched a movie, I was 2/3 of the way through a book which was fun but didn’t reinvent any wheels. I had no dog to walk (having taken my grandmother’s dog home to her the day before) so I went for a walk by myself. It wasn’t too cold, and the mist and fog gave everything the look of a cliche’d horror movie. It was too icy to walk safely for long though and eventually I went home and finished the book I had been reading.
That’s when it hit me. I should have been out writing something new. It’s still too early to start editing Paradox Magic, I’m still waiting for feedback from all the people that got reading copies of the first draft so I get a better sense of what they think does and doesn’t work. And I’m done typing, obviously. So I had nothing to do with what I would normally count as a weeknight for the first time in months and months. I should have been writing.
I could have written a blog post, I suppose, but that’s more something I do in daylight hours, unless I’m having one of those bizarre 3am moments and just need to get something onto a page, any page. So I should have been writing.
The question now becomes: WHAT SHOULD I HAVE BEEN WRITING?
I think the only answer to this question is something new, something I haven’t spent the better part of a year writing. I’m thinking I should get going on some of the short stories that have been bouncing around inside my head for a while, or maybe start the next book, as soon as I figure out what that is going to be.
In the end, all I can say is that I need to write, apparently it’s even phisiological now.
That’s it for today, more when I think of it.