I always have a story going on in my head. The last few months it’s been a fan-fiction crossover of Harry Potter and Battlestar Galactica. Part of me wants to write it. Magic vs tech. Very cool. And I’d get to kill the whole Cylons-get-religion plotline that my atheist heart despised.

I may write that someday, for fun and to stop it nagging at me, but for now my desire is to write an original novel. (I don’t know if that’s my greatest desire. I keep telling myself that. It is on my mind daily.)

I’m at a point in my life where I have unencumbered time to write. The kids are in college and it isn’t necessary for me to work outside the home. Last week I was completely alone while my husband traveled for business.

And I wrote NOTHING.

I binged watched Grey’s Anatomy. (I didn’t even watch BSG or HP with the excuse of research.) I felt guilty and gave myself many depressive mental tongue-lashings. But I still didn’t write.

I did work on my novel for an hour today. Because I can muster up will-power on occasion. But first I did laundry, sorted out some clothes I no longer wanted, made a lovely breakfast, re-did my wreath for Spring, ordered some photo prints, photographed the cat…

Resistance 1, Me 0. (The War of Art, Steven Pressfield)

I’m currently reading The Modern Library Writer’s Workshop : A Guide to the Craft of Fiction by Stephen Koch and two things have stuck with me so far:

1. You have to sacrifice. There’s only so much time. You can’t do everything. You can’t binge watch Grey’s Anatomy and make a dent in producing a novel. You have to choose. Every day a choice. Write or ____. And most days you have to choose to write or the novel will never be finished. Or the next, slightly better novel will never get finished. And so on.
2. Your first drafts are like free writing. Just keep writing. (And now Dory is singing in my head.) Get the draft done. Edit and re-write later.

What does this all mean to me? I need to write. Daily. And without interruption.

Make a choice. Every day.