One summer when I was in college, I wanted to lose 25 pounds, so I decided I would go running every day. I mapped out a mile in my neighborhood and forced myself to go running as soon as I got home from work, at which time, by the way, it would be, like, 90 degrees outside.
I hate running.
But I kept doing it every day, and I lost a bunch of weight, and I even kept doing it when I went back to school. I was in the mandatory health class by that time, so that worked out. I eventually quit because I got super-busy, but I had kept it up for about six months by that time.
And I liked it.
Sometimes, on a much smaller scale, writing is like this for me. Not the actual process, because I like that part. I like writing. But sometimes it’s the last thing I’ll actually do. I can find a million things to do before I get to writing, even though I actually like it quite a lot.
When I was doing the first and second drafts of this script, I didn’t have this problem. I’d gotten disciplined enough that I was now ignoring other things (including my health) so I could write more. But I got sick, and I didn’t write for two weeks, and now all my discipline is gone.
So even though I have barely anything to do on what I hesitate to even call a third draft, I’m crawling along. Last night I trolled along through MySpace looking for other people who graduated from my college. I wrote to people from high school. Then I went to bed.
I need someone to kick me. Thank goodness I’m meeting with my writing “group” tomorrow.