Wednesday, September 5, 2012


Yes, today I am pondering on the ironies of life. In particular, about writing. Not irony in writing, but ABOUT it. As in, the most recent irony I've experienced: It seems that whenever I'm swamped, and have zero time to even devote to anything other than all the stuff I have to do, I really really REALLY itch to write. I dream about stories. I wake up in the middle of the night and jot stuff down on the pad I keep on my nightstand. I stare morosely at my computer and think "Nope, I have to make 6 dozen cookies for this event" or "No--I have to wash and fold eight loads of laundry, walk the dog, do the dishes, run 98860386 errands, etc. etc. etc..

BUT, (and this is a big but) I have found that when I actually have TIME to sit down and write, I have no desire to do it.

What is UP with that?

Am I a defective writer?  Why would I squander valuable writing time on other things?

Does anyone else experience this?