My summer has had a few running themes: fitness, Abraham Lincoln Vampire Hunter, video games, adult beverages, mountains, some iced tea-unsweetened-pink-lemonade thing of pure deliciousness from Starbucks, and time spent lounging with my Joe.
So where’s the writing?
I go through phases. Last month was spent perfecting a short story, making list after list of upcoming contests, feeling purely motivated to grab my passion by the horns and do some serious work. This month? “I’ll get to it, I’ll get to it, I’m writing today, wait no tomorrow, well maybe Thursday.”
And like in the days before I had acquired the motivation to get my butt out of bed and go for a run, or kick box, or dance my face off in Zumba, instead of just doing it I whine and complain that I haven’t gotten anything done. Yeah yeah, it’s pathetic, I know.
In a way, I’m still that person craving the results – imagining them, even – but never making the move to throw on her running shoes.
And so – as I am here now, a 5k finished for the day, plenty of time to spare, whining complete – I think it’s time to get something done.
A writer who doesn’t write? I think it’s time to remind myself of what is most important to me.