Well, That's Concerning
I can always tell when the writing is going well because I am late for things. I’ll remind myself that I must go (to the drugstore) or meet (Lesley) or do (the vacuuming) in half an hour, or face the consequences of them being closed, or mad, or dirty.
When I look up, twenty-five minutes are gone. But I do not stop. I think, in the remaining 5 minutes I can get another sentence done.
Of course the next time I look up, forty minutes have passed, and with them my chances for better health, warmer friendship, and a dust-free apartment.
Art is sacrifice.
Finished the new chapter today. Sent it to Melanie. No puppies died.
I wish I could construct that ticking-clock mindset at will, invent commitments which I could blow off one by one in order to maintain writing steam. Sadly, my mind doesn’t work that way. If I know the emergency is fake, I won’t care.
Did you catch the video of water pouring through the walls of the Lincoln Tunnel? The pic up there is an actual shot from a few days ago. Buddy is trapped in a traffic jam, saying, “Well, that’s concerning.”
I bet he gets some good writing in before the tunnel collapses.