Yes, I’m alive.
Apparently everyone decided to call me this weekend while I was at hockey, karate, and the motorcycle show, and because I was unable to return calls they worried I finally snapped and killed somebody, or maybe my children were eaten by bears.
On the up side, it was a killer weekend. On the down side, I didn’t get shit done. I felt it was high time to revisit this video featuring a Floyd Mayweather motivational speech:
I got to thinking, just how bad do I want it?
To be a full-time writer, that is. I spent all day letting Microsoft bend me over a desk and ram it home. Eight hours wrestling with two different PCs. Eight wasted hours which probably cost more in both hourly wage and lost productivity than the dollar value of both PCs together.
This is how I learned you can’t schedule writing.
See, I expected a quiet day today. I thought I’d wrap up a few loose ends before my wisdom tooth extraction surgery tomorrow morning. I thought I’d even be able to sneak in a little bit of writing-related work at my desk, including posts to both this blog and my professional edtech blog. Instead I got the phone call five minutes after I walked into my office: “My computer doesn’t work!”
Those of us with families, let’s reflect: how many times have we planned to sit down and write at a given time, only to get hijacked by something else? More than I can count.
The habit shouldn’t be planning, the habit should be doing. Write every day before or after work. Write every day before the kids get up or after they go to bed. Write every day at lunch. Write during your coffee/smoke break. Write on the train or bus. Write while your meals are cooking or before they arrive at the table.
If I apply the same dedication to my writing as I do to my karate, I could have as many books available as Brian Keene does right now.
I’m going to start sleeping with my Bram Stoker Award statue close by. I’ll see it before I go to sleep and after I wake up. It will remind me of what I’m capable of.
If nothing else, it will be at hand to beat a burglar to death with.