My Own Distractions

Sometimes it's just really hard to focus and write.

While I sit at my computer, drumming my fingers, waiting for Charlie to finish his turn with the big naked midget/lacrosse/caveman epic, I am working on my own projects. Right now, I'm concentrating on a project I've had for a long time, one that My Manager loves, and is pushing me to finish.

I have the whole thing plotted out, and have for years. But for the longest time, I got about 1/3 of the way into Act 2 and I couldn't push on. I knew what needed to happen in the story, but I didn't, or wouldn't, finish.

So about a month ago I finally pushed, got through the daunting section, and have been speeding along like a supersonic monorail. Now I'm at another sticky, slow, molasses-like section that I need to plow through.

So I'm checking email. And surfing the Web. And watching all the movie trailers on apple.com/trailers, even the foreign ones that I'd never want to see in a million years. I'm sweeping up the cat litter. Pulling some weeds outside. Filing.

I only get, maybe 2 hours tops each day to write. So if I do enough other things, that time will pass and I won't have to write today.

But I'll feel guilty.

It's tough. You get into these moods. You want to write, but it's really hard. Right now, I need to break down a large action sequence. It's complicated. My brain hurts.

So I empty the dishwasher.

And blog.

I think the baby's awake. I'll have to write tomorrow.