Let's just for a moment pretend that I had writer's block. And maybe this happened for about a month right as I was supposed to be working on four completely different and new stories--stories that are timely, stories that are being PUSHED. And while we are pretending let's just say I spent a whole bunch of money by going shopping instead of writing. So within this scenario, I think someone needs to be slapped. That someone being me.
Now, by saying this, I'm not totally admitting I had writer's block for a month and took it out on my credit card, but yeah, that's what I'm saying. So during this month of h-e-double-hockey-sticks, I experienced more "my-car-likes-to-die-at-the-most-inconvenient-times" dramas--one which happened to end in a speeding ticket I didn't deserve because two blocks earlier my car died and the speedometer went out. So as I'm spending valuable writing time at El Paseo dropping cash and opening new Banana Republic credit cards to get the discount, I'm also paying out the you-know-what for a ticket I don't think I deserve. All the while in the back of my head someone is screaming, "STOP YOURSELF! YOU'RE GOING TO RUIN YOUR LIFE!"
The fact that I lost my mind completely didn't change the desire to move home (My NYC, of course), it just made me keeping putting off what I needed to do to get there. It was like when I had my dad put away my credit card for a month, getting it back made me think I should use it "while I can" (I use the phrase loosely.).
Okay, and I missed one major detail: My editor keeps telling me that one of my stories is the most important of the entire tab for this event and what am I doing? Lusting after shoes?!!
So here's how it went down: I metaphorically slapped myself in the face and sat down to conquer the big one--the article that is soooo important. I got the audio, got the quotes and started to slowly piece that thing together. About a week later, it was finished.
Today it was on to story two--one on the President of the Cherry Festival Association. I met him for breakfast and we talked for about an hour. It was a lovely conversation and I'm starting to feel like I'm getting it back again.... or at least I've had enough coffee to think I've got it back again.
Next will be wrestling down a man notorious for being unbelievably busy. This all has to happen before my trip to Vegas next week.
So a message for myself (after I just spent all this time rambling about life in an effort to feel inspired):
GET YOUR BUTT IN GEAR!
The worst thing I could do is let myself get all "slumpy" again. I will not ruin my life! I will not rack up my credit cards! I will not lose New York because I'm sitting behind a smoke-screen of spending and procrastinating!
So as I sit here beside my recorder (which I am nothing without) and in front of my laptop, I have a fat, furry monster purring in my lap and I'm fighting with myself. The logical part of me says "Start--because you won't finish until you begin," and the weird, out-of-sorts writer in me says, "But I have to feel it... convince me that I do..." The trick is getting them to reason with each other.
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