Tell me I should be writing ONE MORE TIME…

I don’t post much here because I generally think that if I don’t have something creative to share, I should just spend my time in other ways. I try to spend more time writing, not so much time talking about writing.

Give me credit for this much: I DO spend more time writing/revising/planning/designing than talking about those things.

Over the next few weeks, I will need to: put rugs on my apartment floors, file my taxes, and it’s well past time I started the process of buying a condo. The sudden demand from my landlord to install carpeting, at my own expense, by April 1st is even more impetus to get the fuck out of this place. (In case anyone’s wondering, there was nothing on the tile floors when I moved in two and a half years ago, and no one’s given me any warning about my floors since then. Now all of a sudden they’re giving me 12 days’ notice to cover the floors. And pay for it myself.)

Meanwhile, I still have a job at which I can scarcely afford to take a day off, can in fact hardly even take a proper lunch break, and whose workday plus commute takes me out of the building from 7:15 AM to 6:45-7 PM every weekday.

I’ve recently established an exercise routine. If you could see how my clothes fit, you’d probably agree I need some daily cardio. There’s only so long a writer can neglect her own health before her creative capacities suffer.

All of which means I expect to spend a good deal of time in the near future NOT DOING MUCH as an author.

Since I am a self-publisher whose source of income is outside her writing, this is not a catastrophe. No one else’s work schedule is involved in my productivity. Since I’m light years away from living off my royalties anyway, my publication schedule has nothing to do with paying my rent.

And yet, we writers have this persistent Internet culture of constantly berating each other to WRITE ALL THE TIME. WHY AREN’T YOU WRITING RIGHT THIS MINUTE?

Gee, if only I weren’t all alone in paying the bills. If only I could get away with not shopping, cooking, washing dishes, or bathing. (Oh, and I don’t have a dishwasher.) If only I didn’t have self-care duties, dodgy residential issues, tax filing deadlines, and family commitments getting in the way of my writing schedule.

So, basically, if anyone in the near future tells me I should stop making excuses and just write…they deserve whatever they get.