The Fickle Nature of Motivation

It makes no sense, sometimes. I work from home, nine to ten hours at the computer where once or twice every hour I’ll think ‘Man, I wish I was writing now. That would be awesome’. Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoy my job, but . . . well, it’s not my number one. Obviously!

Anyway. So all day long in the back of my mind I’m wishing I could write. And then I finish work for the day – and I can’t start. Fickle brain wanders off, excited by not having to do any more work today. And rather than getting writing straight away, I instead:

  • Wash the dishes
  • Check Twitter
  • Read other people’s blogs
  • Defrost some pork chops
  • Watch trailers for The Dark Knight Rises
  • Drink beer and consider opening my own microbrewery one day
  • Write blog posts about the fickle nature of motivation

Not crazy productive. Though the last one is at least getting the fingers going, and fickle brain in the mood for cracking on with THE LAST CHAPTER.

(Or the epilogue. Yeah, I still don’t know.)

I’d love to hear your own procrastinatory stories in the comments. And it’ll save you from doing what you should be doing, too!

Limbering up

I’m delighted to discover that splurging God-knows how many words – of questionable value – onto this blog didn’t lessen my ability to actually write something useful. It may even have loosened the old brain muscle, got the juices flowing, as I just banged out a thousand words in forty-five minutes – the final scene of chapter 20 of my WIP.

It’s a particularly poignant and saddening scene, I think, but one I hope I’ve managed to infuse with some kick-ass bravado. We’ll see. A snippet is in order:

“Skin darkening from white through dusky grey to black, veins of putrid green splitting his flesh, eyes glazed and glistening, Abe smiled. He would give them submission.

And he would take from them everything.”

You show ’em, Abe.