Maybe inevitable isn’t the right word. ‘Dreaded’ might be more appropriate. I have to perform open-heart surgery on Rhythm in Blue– soon. I’m looking forward to the rewards, but not the actual operation. The undertaking seems so daunting, almost overwhelming. I sit here and tell myself, ‘I’m not up to the task,’ and ‘I’m not good enough to do what needs to be done.’ Coming up with a concrete plan is my procrastination tool, and so far, it’s working. But as I think about it, concrete plans are not my forte. No, I do my best work when I dive in and just start writing, but I can’t bring myself to do it as my inner voice (the one we should all ignore) repeatedly chants, you will fail, you don’t have the skill, you suck!
Why is it that one day we can feel brilliant (that perhaps we missed our calling to be rocket scientists), that every word we write will be a great legacy, cherished by our descendants (and everyone else, for that matter), and other days, we feel we are wasting valuable time that would be better spent shoveling shit (odd comparison, as some days it seems to be the same thing)?
As I prepare for the operation, I review all my books on writing, praying that the information and wisdom they impart will etch itself into my brain (it never does), and wishing they covered the subjects I struggle with in more detail. It’s probably there, but my blinders slam shut as though I’m back in my high school algebra class.
Another procrastination tool I employ is focusing on all the other things I should be doing, yet, I procrastinate for them, as well. So, here I sit, in limbo, coming up with one excuse after another and accomplishing nothing. Luckily, I didn’t sleep well last night, and that always makes for a handy excuse and buys me one more day of putting it off. Who can concentrate and create a work of genius on very little sleep? Why try? Maybe I’ll mow. That doesn’t take much concentration.