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Don’t let gorgeous days and blondes deter you from writing a book

March 14, 2013

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Ah … that voice that visits us each and every day, the one that knows us better than we know ourselves. Here’s a little dialogue between Author and Voice.

 

“I’m tired today. I don’t think I’ll write,” The Author said.

“What’s that?” The Voice asked.

“I said I don’t feel like writing today. Besides, I can make it up tomorrow. I’ll write twice as much then.”

“If you say so.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” The Voice said.

The Author stared into his computer. Yeah. He knew what he meant. But what the hell, he’d done pretty well up to this point, he thought as he scrolled through the first chapters of his book. Just this week he’d knocked off ten thousand words. He deserved a break. It was sunny and warm outside. He thought it might be a good day to head to the Hope Cafe down there by the riverfront. Sure, he could buy a newspaper, get his coffee and relax on this beautiful morning. He’d stare out at the water and daydream of big days to come when he’d sign that six-figure deal with a book publisher and go to literary parties and fly to the West Coast when they got ready to make his story into a movie. Yeah. And maybe that nice-looking blonde would be at the cafe, tapping on her laptop, the one he’d struck up a few conversations with. What was her name? Dawn? She’d told him she was working on some short stories.

“Go ahead. If that’s what you want to do,” The Voice said.

“What?”

“Head down to the Hopeless Writers Cafe.”

“It’s the Hope Cafe.” The Author whined. “And you’re not being very encouraging.”

“Well … What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. Tell me I should write today. Talk me into it.”

“Why?”

Why? Because I need a kick in the butt now and then.”

“Look. If you don’t want to write, I can’t make you. Your decision to write has to be your own, not someone else’s.”

“I thought you were going to help me.”

“I can only help you if you help yourself. Look, I think you should write today, but if you don’t want to, that’s your choice. Go down to the riverfront and sip coffee with the rest of those pretend writers. Go make goofy eyes at that blonde.”

The Writer felt a stab of guilt. Caught again. “You’re not very encouraging”

The Voice emitted a sigh. “Okay. Go write. Because if you don’t, you’ll feel pretty crappy the rest of the day because you didn’t. How’s that?”

“I guess it’s true, but I still don’t feel like writing today.”

“Well there you go.”

“There I go where?”

“Right down the crapper.”

“Aw c’mon. We’re talking about skipping one writing day. Look, it’s been raining all week, but it’s gorgeous out there today. This is a good day for a break.”

“Precisely why you shouldn’t skip a day,” The Voice said. “Besides, your day off is Sunday.”

“So?”

“So? We’re talking rhythm, flow. You got it going man. This is the worst time to take a day off. I mean, you say you’ll skip one day. But how do you know you won’t skip two or three days, or never get back into your writing again.”

“Look. It’s not going to happen.”

“Okay. Do what you have to do.”

“I will.”

“Okay.”

“Fine.”

“Fine. Now shut up and write.”

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