ROW80 Update

Gaaaarrrraaaaahhhhgg!

So here's what happens. Every time.

I say "I'm cutting back on blogging." And then I start blogging. What the falooza? Am I a rational human being? Do I have any self-control?

Obviously the answer is no.

More thoughts on this below the update:

Sunday, Day 21 - 98 minutes. More organizational work than I intended to do. I think I'm mentally avoiding one of the upcoming scenes, but I can't tell which one because I'm mentally avoiding it.

Monday, Day 22 - 61 minutes. Some nice new material, done very late at night after spending way too much time hijacking my own money post for the blog here.

Tuesday, Day 23 - 34 minutes. I sat down to get myself organized and several blog posts just poured out of me. Hmmm. Actually, I admit, I think they are kind of fun, and it may become a new feature for the blog: conversations among my imaginary selves. It reminds me a bit of what Lawrence Block does all the time, a dialog between himself and a class full of imaginary students. I now see why he does it. It's fun because, you know, it's scene writing. And it's also a good way to clarify points. It's not quite as much fun as when Creative Me and Sensible Me get down to it. (Hmmm, maybe I should trot them out for more blog posts.) This is more Young Anxious Me and Unflappable Old Hack Me.

I'll post those later. But in the meantime, doing that and other things delayed me from writing until very late AGAIN. I did get about 500 good new words done in that half hour I worked.

The Down Side of Contentment

One of the things I didn't talk about much in the Money Post (but is sort of the gist of the whole "Writing as a Job" series) is getting your life to where you want it now, rather than wait for that big score or retirement or that day when pigs fly.

Part of achieving that is having very simple needs.

I remember when I was a kid I had some kind of lesson that would fall on the day before pay day, and on the way home, my mom and I would search the car completely, under the seats, between the cushions, to find enough pennies and nickles and quarters to split a Big Mac. Later when I was in community college, riding the bus back and forth among all sorts of small jobs and classes -- I'd pass a certain Chinese restaurant with the very best egg rolls in the whole world. They were cabbage, shrimp and peanut butter, and served with this fabulous apple-based duck sauce. They were also very big, and an order of them and a bowl of rice made a great meal.

And I, poor schlubbette, would dream of being able to have a Big Mac or a Yat Wah eggroll whenever I wanted. That would be the good life.

I got to that point while still in college.

And lo, I learned that having a Big Mac or a Yat Wah eggroll whenever you want actually is the good life.

I mean, okay, getting rid of bad stuff from your life is more important, and Yat Wah went out of business decades ago, and I have expanded my portfolio of desires since then. But I haven't particularly upgraded them. (We have three, count 'em, three real dim sum houses in town, and no less than two very authentic Sichuan restaurants. And I can find just about any book I ever could want on Amazon.)

So when the crick doesn't rise and the situation at day job doesn't deteriorate into internecine war again, I'm a pretty darned contented little schlubbette.

I Was Warned about this as a young writer. Writers need to be hungry. Writers need to have some deep need which is not met, driving them on. I haven't really believed that because any time I've felt dissatisfied with life, (or wretched, or frightened or desperate) I've been really distracted from my writing.

But honestly? I'm thinking my problem with productivity right now is that I'm too satisfied. I have instant gratification of every single thing I want. If an idle question crosses my mind, I can instantly look it up. Trying to remember the lyrics of the song stuck in my head? Look that up too. If I want Yat Wah eggrolls, I can actually make them myself, but that isn't quite instant gratification, since it would require shopping and stinking up the house with deep-frying.

And let's not forget that I'm finding all my old favorite books, and suddenly I'm enjoying reading again like I haven't done in ages.

It's a problem you should have.

(Don't worry. I'll deal with it.)

See you in the funny papers.