It’s totally the environment. With everything in boxes, and no clear space, how can I ever sit down to write? I would totally go to the coffee shop, but I’m so broke. I can’t find the notebook I started to write my novel in long-hand after the Great Computer Crash of 2013, so I can’t work on that. My head’s not in the right space for short stories, I can’t write those. And I believe in Big Foot, too.
Excuses seem to be everyone’s favorite craft project. They’re easy to make. Instead of listening to my own hype, I decided that another DIY project was in order. I set one of the kitchen stools in front of the counter. I cleared off just enough space to fit my computer. I plugged the fucker in and turned it on. I took some white glue, knowing my jeans were already slated for the sewing scrap bin, and I smeared the seat with the sticky pale stuff. Then I plunked my ass down to write.
Uncomfortable physical reminder of the task at hand acquired, achievement unlocked! But I want to tell you something— it worked. Two hours of text, fifteen minutes of clean up. Today’s score is Story : 1, Procrastination : 0.
