Book or bust

These days if I don’t write something I feel itchy.

You know that feeling when you need to exercise or eat or pay a bill or call a sick friend or take your dog for a walk or watch the finale of Downton Abbey?

I’ve got that feeling.

Yet, there’s no time today. I’ve got a short morning before heading into the city, and I’m eating over my keyboard. Need to exercise, walk my buddy Aw’gy, pay a bill, shower. There is ALWAYS something to keep me from spending 2 or 3 hours with a book that is ITCHING to come out.

It’s not horrible. Not bad enough, I guess.

I suppose I could have set my alarm for 5 a.m. Maybe I’m not that committed yet.

I rationalize – reminding myself there are a few chapters written that just need to be dumped into the computer. YES! I start with pen and paper, and have for years. Even in my corporate days. If it was worth writing, I’d grab a white pad with blue lines – no yellow pads for me – and craft a good lead and maybe a second graph, until I began to feel the rhythm. Then, I’d dump it into the computer and watch the work take on a life of its own.

Writing a book can’t be that hard. Geez, there are millions of them!

Who said, “So many books, so little time”?

What’s hard is sitting down. And I find, I have to get up. Right now! And so, I feel a bit itchy.


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