Sleep deprived. Again. Past deadline. Again. I’m quite grateful my editors don’t fire me. Of course, they’re probably struggling with the same situation, if for different reasons. Anyway, I work for free.
Even so. It’s frustrating, aggravating, irritating, exacerbating. (Drat. I’m out of –atings.) It’s so very writerly, isn’t it? And I’m sick of it. I’m sick of the cliché of missed deadlines and sinks full of dishes and the piles of dirty laundry that keeps growing and the pile of clean laundry that keep shrinking. And I’m sick of the rant, the pure rantiness that day after busy day brings on. And so are you. But don’t stop reading. This is not a rant post. In no way shall we allow this to be a rant post. This is an anti-cliched-writer post. Or maybe an inverse-cliched-writer post. I tend to get that mixed up. Back to the point. It’s summer, it’s time for a change – bring on the sun! (In other words, let’s lighten things up.)
So here’s what we do: take that rant and declare the inverse. Contort it, convolute it. Just don’t break it. Don’t make an un-true declaration. This is not a self-affirming moment, where we pep talk ourselves that “I will write today” when the reality of the day suggests…well, the day is just snickering at me. No un-true declarations. Make a true un-rant declaration. Clear as mud, right? Here I go:
I don’t have time to write. I’ll write my opus when I retire. Today I’m busy. I’ll write a line of random dialogue. And a grocery list.
I can’t write interesting characters. I’ll eat an apple as I drive to the grocery store and ponder how both interesting and uninteresting characters eat apples the same way.
Where did all my great ideas go? As I put away groceries, I discover that this is one of the most boring chores ever – second only to folding laundry – and it would be hell to write a scene around it. I’m tempted to try.