| Sunday December 15th, 2002 It's a good thing I never intended to make an income from my writing. I've neglected it horribly these past couple of months. And I've been making an inordinate number of excuses for myself. I should be Christmas shopping; I'd rather call LA; I'll have the guys over tonight; I'm too tired. Or when I have no excuse - like tonight - I resort to every other way of spending my time first. I'd rather play Xbox; I'd rather read more of that Harry Potter book; I'd rather make a new 7th Sea deck or tweak an old one; I'd rather see what's on TV (hate that one the most); I'd rather update my web site. In February it will have been two years since I finished the first draft of my novel. Since then I can give myself credit for virtually rewriting Part One (the first 200 pages or so), and a bit of work on editing the opening chapters with some assistance from a volunteer editor; but that's it. Not nearly where I thought I'd be where my second draft is concerned. I suppose there's plenty of excuses. I did go through a divorce this year, after all. And those short story classes redirected my creative impulses. And falling in love ... I won't blame myself for any time I devoted to that cause. But still, I look at the pile of draft work cluttering my computer desk - pretty much looks the same as it did two months ago - and I feel like I deserve to be chastised at least a little. I've read - and believed it every time I read it - that the hardest part about writing is just sitting down and doing it. That the only difference between published authors and writers who never get anywhere is, they never sat their butts down and got anywhere. I've been getting plenty of compliments - you'd think I'd feel motivated by now. The new writing group I've joined is looking forward to reading some of my stuff, and they're a respectable bunch so I take their anticipation postively. I've compared my writing to quite a few others' now and I think I stand up pretty well. My 'editor' - and others - are encouraging me to submit some of my short story work to publishers, just for kicks. Get out there and try, is the message. Start collecting rejection letters and get used to it, they tell me. Start building up a name among the publishing powers that be. And all I have to do is do it. Not surf the net after I'm done this update. Not flip on the Xbox. Just sort out this mess on the desk in front of me and get back at it. One last stab for 2002 before the holiday season hits, even if it's just a couple of hours. Something to prove my writing spirit is still alive, and looking forward to 2003. |