Not letting THOSE days get in the way of writing
What writer-type stuff do you want for Christmas (or your holiday of choice)? Let me know. We’re compiling a Holiday Gift Guide for publication in early December.
As I write this, I am less than 45 percent of the way toward my writing goal of 20 pages today. Why, you ask? Because we just changed our phone, television, and Internet provider to a single source to save lots of money and the phone hasn’t worked correctly since we did. And because our service provider would prefer we text chat with people in another hemisphere, rather than call them–and because their online diagnostic tools work in Internet Explorer, but not Chrome, I’m out about two and a half hours.
This is me smiling. Really.
I had a nice head of steam up until the person phone spammed me about the 14-point checkup aimed at helping with my home electric bill. When that call rolled to my cell, I remembered that I needed to deal with the stupid land line, too. When the land line doesn’t work, the call rolls to my cell.
Now, after two and a half hours, five trips outside to look at the box, four trips to the garage to look at the other box, two browsers, a reboot, and an off-shored tech who asked all the same question as the online diagnostics that required two browsers to run…after all that, I’m a bit peeved. Seriously, if I wanted this kind of pain, I’d have gone to work today, rather than spending more than a quarter of my eight hours of vacation time dealing with the same frustrations as happen at work.
And yet, here I am with twelve pages left to write. What’s a writer to do? What do you do when the forces of evil petty amusement derail your writing experience with a series of small flaming baglets of crap on your porch? Writing kind of demands a sense of emotional purity or at least reasonably coherent thought that long discussions with Peggy (see video below) lay waste to.
Me? I wrote this blog post to vent my righteous, humorous, and thoroughly sarcastic anger. It was either that or heat a poker and stick it in my eye.
Or I could take a walk. Do some pushups. Vacuum the rug. Go to the store. Pray. Meditate. Take a nap.
I could write a scene in which my most sarcastic character unleashes an equally righteous rant on the rest of humanity.
At the end of the day, though, I still need to hit that goal. When I coach Little League, and the kids are hitting, I tell them any way to first. Hit. Hit by pitch. Walk. Error. Whatever. The key is to get here.
The key for me is to hit my goal. And not to let Peggy get in the way of that process.