I have noticed that a week (or six) has gone by since the last time I blogged. I am, I admit, a negligent blogger. And it is for exactly the opposite reason as to why I procrastinate with journal writing. If I have had a busy, exciting, whirlwind day, I am too darn tired to write in my journal in the evening. It is all I can do to prop open a good book on my knees and read it. It is nearly impossible for me to organize my thoughts, open my journal, grab a pen, and put the day’s events to paper. And the more days that go by, the more reluctant I am to crack open the journal because I know how behind I am in my own life’s story, how many words I’ll have to jot down to catch up, how many events I’ve forgotten, and how my hand will ache by the time I’m finished. That whole scenario happens so often that my journal writing has become a hideous monthly event, a fits-and-starts report of my life with most of the details skated over or completely forgotten.
Blog writing doesn’t get done for the opposite reason: Nothing is happening of any interest here at the studio during the summer, so there’s nothing to write about. Well, maybe a few things. I finished my novel (hallelujah, at long last!), 177,000 words, give or take 20,000 depending on which counting method I use. But I’d been working on it for so long, I knew it needed a thorough going over. I chased off some real (as in, money-making) web design work by saying the client could just as easily put up a site himself (and I guess he did). Then just as I settled in to rewrite . . . summer vacation arrived and my two children were suddenly on my hands again for 24 hours a day. By the time I came up for air after amusement park outings, museum visits, whitewater rafting, sleepovers at which no one slept, camping, hosting visitors, umpteen games of ping-pong and badminton, and trips to the beach, my manuscript files were still sitting there on my computer, mocking me. The rewrite wasn’t finished, no agent query letter had been sent, and my blog had sat neglected all summer. And perhaps the worst procrastination of all, I had stopped exercising with my favorite virtual Wii trainer, Maya (see “Working Out”, April 2, 2009). Oh, Maya! What would she say? Would she take away all the levels I’d earned and the extra music and workout areas that I’d unlocked with all my diligent huffing and puffing in the spring?
As it turned out, when I finally slipped the disc back in the Wii, she was quite forgiving. She gave me the longest speech she’d ever given me, starting with “You’ve missed some workouts lately.” Uh-oh, did her computer brain know exactly how many weeks it had been? But she went on with “Take time for yourself, no one else will.” Sort of stern but supportive. And I’m right back into it with my new multi-tasking idea of tying a piece of yarn around one wrist while I workout. For half an hour this morning, the cats thought I was playing with them while I marched in place and did bicep curls; it was brilliant.
And now I have work to do: New web development prospects and a brochure to edit. Best of all, I finally hit send on the query letter to the person I hope will agree to be my agent (please, please, please, please, please . . . ). I have vanquished procrastination at least until tonight when I may choose the latest book I’m reading, the excellent, excellent Year of Wonders: a Novel of the Plague by Geraldine Brooks over my dusty journal.
Also, I wouldn’t post on this day without saying that I still get choked up as I remember those who lost their lives as well as their families on 9/11/2001.