|Click to play the video on YouTube.|
Spring is usually a good time for me to write and be creative, or at least it has been over the last couple of years. I could blame it on the day job, but all that's done is get easier in some ways and more difficult in some ways. Par for the course. It seems like there's more there than before but it may just be that I'm paying attention more closely.
I could blame it on buying a house, and that's certainly a lot of stress but it's also motivation for writing more. I suppose it could be more pressure than I'm recognizing to finish one story that's long overdue or it could be an agglomeration of those things and more.
I've tried starting two other stories that have been on my mind just to try and clear the cobwebs out and get the juices flowing. I've tried plotting further on the novel I started last November. I've gone for walks, I've drunk inordinate amounts of whiskey. I've ignored everything and vegged out in front of the tube. I've gone back to edit other stories that I should have out on the street because we're buying a house and money's something we're going to need more of.
Nada. Hangovers don't help writing, no matter how much Papa said alcohol lubricates the brain. (I'm not sure Hemingway ever encouraged drinking amongst writers. It sounds like him, though.)
I've come to the conclusion that The Work Simply Must Be Done. Butt in chair, fingers on keys, it's Time to Write. Stop worrying and just do it, right?
It's not that simple though. Is it?