Tap? What tap?

I tried to write yesterday, I really did! I’m trying to get back in the habit of sitting down everyday, to write something, anything, just to get my thoughts down somewhere. It didn’t happen yesterday. Exhaustion forced me to bed early and I enjoyed it, at least until my eyes opened at four in the morning.

But I’m well rested for the first time in ages, though I’m afraid it won’t last. That’s okay, I’ll make the most of it today and I’ll try to finish writing the chapter I’m working on and start on the next. I just have to figure out what I’m supposed to write next. The last scene took me by surprise.

My surprise notwithstanding, I find writing difficult and tedious at times. It’s almost impossible to maintain the level of energy and excitement necessary to complete something as ambitious as a book. That’s where discipline comes into play. The act of abandoning pretenses of writing  literary gold can be freeing, and maybe by just writing you’ll be rewarded by having a flash of brilliance and the words will pour freely and easily. It just won’t happen until you shut up, sit down, and start opening that tap.

My tap is firmly shut at the moment, and it feels a little rusty. It’s resisting my attempts to open it. That’s okay. I’ll spray a little WD-40, wait for it to soak in, and try again, figuratively speaking. Literally speaking, I’ll pop open a bottle of beer, wait for my inhibitions to lower slightly, and then wait for inspiration to bless me with…, er…, writer’s stuff.

Speaking of writer’ stuff, I need a printer. That would be awesome. Also an office chair, with lumbar support. My birthday’s coming up in a few months, maybe I should start hinting that I would like something. Like a printer. Or a chair. Or maybe I’ll just buy it myself. And maybe I should shut up and sit down. I’ve got writing to do.

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