I’ve been a bit lax in my writing these days. Every now and then life seems to take over from writing and disrupt absolutely everything. It’s a churn of 6.30am starts and 11pm finishes, rushed lunches of the same-old-same-old, staring at the computer screen and the clock and the computer screen again. Days blur into weeks, with brief blasts of weekends filled with busy-doing-nothing and family time, and then before I know it, another month has gone and I haven’t written a single word (save for my blogs and marketing emails for work). My beautiful Oxford notebook sits forlornly under a film of dust, the ideas fading on the pages and the characters twiddling their thumbs hoping one day I will decide what to do with them. Life has pushed aside my grand ideas of a bestselling novel, for mundane bits-and-bobs and the general viscera of normality.
My poor little novel. How sad it looks on the pull-out shelf of my desk (because the main bit of the desk is covered in beauty products and make-up and half-watched DVDs). I feel guilty every time I look at it. So why don’t I just get on with it, you cry. Stop the self-pitying rumblings of the aspiring (lazy) writer and DO IT. Which is, essentially, exactly what I should be doing. I’ve just secured a permanent job (in publishing, no less – yay me) so I don’t have to worry so much about the hand-to-mouth-will-I-get-paid-next-week temping stuff, I’m living at home so I get my dinner cooked for me (spoiled, I know). I’m currently broke, so socialising shouldn’t be an issue. There is one small problem.
For starters, I’m lazy. Not just “I’ll do it later” lazy. Just really, truly lazy. As in, I’d be happiest in bed all day doing nothing. The only reason I manage to blog so often is because it’s habit and I can’t let people down. Everything else gets pushed aside by the Great Laziness. So, okay, I can motivate myself to write every now and then – it’s been proven in the past. I can do it now, right? The next step is actually fitting it in to my life. I’m not amazingly busy. But my evening seems to get eaten up by everything else. Not only that, but it’s fantastically easy to distract me. I could get distracted by a butterfly. Honestly. The tiniest thing. So now I need time to do it, to put aside the Great Laziness, AND find somewhere to do it that will be minus butterflies, Twitter, offers of tea, something on the TV or anything else that might possibly move me from the concentration that’s needed for writing.So. Here’s the plan; I am going right back to basics. After school, you always put aside time to do your homework (or at least were meant to). So, why not do the same? Every day, after work, I will have an hour to myself to do some writing. I will tame this beast that is (was… could be) my novel. I will grab it with both hands and forge it into something more than a collected piece of dust, paper and forgotten characters. Nothing will stop me and I will conquer the world! To me, the basics really are the basics. There’s nothing fancy about writing – there’s no magic (though it might feel that way when it’s written). So why try to create a situation that’s not going to happen? Why sit there and say “I’ll write when I get a bolt of inspiration”? Just write. Just take that writing and show it who’s boss.