Okay, so I first started this post like two months ago, and at the time I was watching all of Sex and the City, so I thought it would be funny (or at least punny) to talk about hard work jeans instead of genes. Two months later, that doesn’t seem funny at all.
Nor is it funny how little writing I’ve done in the past week. This post was initially sparked by a discussion I had with my mom on whether or not I inherited my parents’ amazing work ethics. I guess after writing roughly 10 words in 10 days, the obvious answer is no.
(Oh, and the SATC part was going to be about how Carrie Bradshaw was always writing her column while wearing only a top and her underwear. And how I wondered if her laptop ever burned her thighs. And how maybe I should try that uniform, since it worked out pretty well for her. But seeing as it’s about 20 degrees in Cincinnati right now, I’m thinking that’s a no-go.)
As for the lack of productivity, I don’t really understand how this happened. I’d been looking forward to this week for a while, because with Andy out of town on business, I thought I’d have plenty of time to dedicate to my writing. Because, you know, usually it’s Andy’s fault I don’t get any writing done. What with all his demands, like doing my laundry for me, cooking for me, watching TV so he doesn’t bother me… Wait a minute!
Oh right, what Andy actually does is make me feel guilty when I waste my time. And while I don’t enjoy that, I realize now that it’s good for me. (Oh god I hope Andy never reads this post…) All week I’ve had no one to answer to but Riley, and let’s just say Riley doesn’t have a whole lot of complaints as long as he gets his kibbles and some play time.
So, after reading Kiersten White’s hilarious and focused blog about her hilarious and focused writing, and after hypocritically chastising Les for saying probably she wouldn’t hit her 10k/month goal in December, I am now going to stop being such a waste of life. I am going to set realistic goals and meet them. I am going to stop pretending to work and actually work. I am going to write stories that I (and anyone) would love to read and then I am going to sell them.
This is me kicking myself in the butt. Because really, no one else should have to.