Writer’s Crock
Well, first of all, I had a freaky event the other day. I was doing cardio (because it was a day that ends in y) at the Potrero Hill 24 Hour Fitness (I apologize for my ever-erratic gym location selections, which I realize makes it difficult for my would-be stalkers), and after the gym, I’m putting my pants on and realize (once again) that although they are not "loose," they are not "snug."
This gym happens to be under an Old Navy, which seems to be the company that provides the pants for my urban-commie look that seems to have developed, so I pop in upstairs and find some authentic cargos in 30×32. I am half doing this to show my body that it is getting overeager, and that they will be too tight. But a part of me thinks, I am totally getting into these.
So, despite them only having tan instead of my preferred olive-green, I leave with new, small pants within a few minutes. It is strange knowing that all of this stuff has to wrap up soon. I mean, we’re starting to feel bone there, so this might be it. If not, I can’t imagine ever wearing anything under a 28. We shall see…
Despite the fact that I’m supposed to be all frugal and stuff now, a new pants size is ALWAYS in the budget (assuming the new size is smaller than the current one, of course). And it is a good shot of self-esteem.
I am back on the Macy’s Diet somewhat. A lot of side-salads and needless snacks are off the menu, trying to get everything back on track. In typical weirdo fashion, I binged out the day before getting all serious again. I give up trying to figure out why. But since it only occurs when I’m about to ratchet up the focus on the diet, and I’m nearing the end of ever having to ratchet it up again, I’m assuming it will just go away? Would be nice.
So, new pants definitely fall under the WHYDT.
I’m still procrastinating on the book, although I can’t really figure out why. I think, like the diet, it is a larger identity issue. I mean, who am I if I’m skinny with a finished novel? I have no idea. So, there’s a lesson, kids, never build an identity on your failures because at some point you might get off your ass and not know who you are.
It looks like I’m going to be renting office space for February/March to work on the novel. I am absolutely refusing anything else to get in. I’m not starting yoga, going overboard cooking new things… no, nothing else. If I’m not working on the book, I don’t get to go out and have fun.
It is just a matter of sitting here and getting started. Woody Allen said that 80 percent of success is showing up, and that has to be the new mantra.
The funny thing is, I don’t believe in writer’s block. I don’t even think I’m blocked now. I actually know what I want to do, what I plan to do with the book… but, anything else sounds like more fun. To me, writer’s block is me staring at a Microsoft Word document and being unable to know what the point is, what I want to say…
Not that I am 100 percent clear on the book, but I am optimistic enough to know that if I "show up," it will all sort itself out. There are incredible moments in the book that just arrive when you are there to receive them.
Like now, am I writing a blog entry… or avoiding the novel? Good question. The even bigger issue is… what will take the blog’s place when I hit publish now? Let’s see…
