Seven More Years

So here is the really messed up thing...

I went to all the trouble of starting this site and getting it all nice and tidy (built up a nice banner in Visio, wrote a bio, quantified all of my goals, figured out how to link it to Facebook, etc.) because I wanted a way to keep myself accountable.  My thinking was that if I spent a day doing nothing towards my goals, convincing myself--as I am so good at--that I have plenty of time to get all of this done and that tomorrow is just as good a day to get moving as would be today, I would have to come on here and write about what a lazy bastard I had been that day.  This way I would guilt myself into actually doing something.  Or at the very least, get hit square in the face with the concept that weeks--WEEKS!--were just passing by without any fiction being written, books read, or mountains climbed.

But, as it turns out, coming here and writing something everyday has become just another thing I am avoiding.  I am hiding from my own self-discipline mechanism.  I've lost a little over a month, I think, of just putting all of this off until tomorrow...or Monday...or next weekend.  Yeah, once I get through this thing for work, I'll get going again.  Or, wow Lost is on tonight, I can't possibly get anything done tonight.  And then tomorrow is Thursday, major TV night.  I should just call this week a loss and enjoy the weekend.

One thing I have been thinking a lot about lately is a moment I had during my trip to NYC last summer.  On the second night of the conference, I walked back to my hotel to regroup and grab dinner (I was about three blocks away, near Penn Station).  As I walked, I fell into one of those "cool writer moments" you tend to get from time to time.

There I was, walking the streets of Manhattan, the empire state building looming in the darkening sky behind me; my head swimming with advice and excitement gathered from a long day spent with agents and editors; the thrill of being in the city where fiction lives and breathes surrounding me.  Everything felt so real and awesome.  I swear for about a block my feet never touched the sidewalk.

But there was one problem...I hadn't earned the right to be there.

I can rationalize all I want, but I know the truth.  My new book should have been ready to shop around that week.  All of those editors and agents I was rubbing elbows with were opportunities to make something happen...but because I hadn't done the work, because I hadn't just sat my ass down and earned it, I was missing out.  And despite how awesome that week was, in that moment a part of me felt like failure.

I don't want to feel like that again this year.  Come May, I want to drive to New York with a fresh copy of my new book sitting on the seat beside me, done.  Like done done.  Not, oh I just need to rewrite the last half and it's good...but I can start sending it out.  Not, okay, I ripped through it just to get it ready and it's not as good as it could be, but close enough.  Not, yeah I just need to give it a really good proofread and we are set.  DONE.

I want to earn the right to have my moment this year.  And that means cutting the shit and getting serious about this again.

I am all out of tomorrows, I think...

Month One: Complete and Utter Fail

So you may have noticed that this space hasn't been updated for the past couple weeks.  Appropriately enough the lack of posting here is a perfect match for the lack of effort I've put into my goals.  Well, maybe that is a bit harsh.  I am seven pounds down...but that really came from not over eating over the past three weeks.  Basically my inaction (that is, my lack of eating Doritios) led to some weight loss.  I guess doing "nothing" is slightly better than doing the wrong thing, if it is any conciliation.

I've been off track the past two weeks because of a small family crisis we've been facing (one that I won't detail here).  However, I am very happy to say that this crisis ended extremely well and is very, very over (thank Science!).

I've basically spent the last two weeks holding my breath and trying to keep myself as distracted as possible--all while outwardly smiling and pretending that nothing whatsoever was wrong.  Looking back, a part of me feels like it was something of a cop-out to abandon my seven-more-years plans while we waited things out, but that's what I did.  I think things look a lot less scary from the other side of the storm, so I am just cutting myself some slack and getting back to it.

So I am back in the saddle, as they say.  And I you should start seeing much more activity here.  Thanks for bearing with me.

Back to it!

Back From a Slight Case of Poisoning

So I spent last night scrubbing every inch of my basement with bleach.  Funny thing about bleach--those in the know sort of recommend that you heavily dilute the stuff before using it to scrub floors.  If you go by their advice (and I imagine there are several government agency who would insist that you do), you should use about one tablespoon of bleach per gallon of warm water.

As it turns out, it's not advisable to just pour bleach all over your floor, dumb a couple cups of water over it and then get on your hands and knees with a scrub brush.  Even if you are wearing a painter's dust mask.  On a related note, painter's dusk masks are worse than useless (on the order of goggles vs. lava) against bleach fumes.  Just something I've picked up over the last few days.

So today at lunch--as I tried to ignore my pounding headache and worrisome slurred speech--I spent about an hour researching how to clean up bleach spills.  Turns out, lots and lots of water does the trick.  And a little bit of baking soda for good measure.

Anyway, after all that my basement is once again suitable for human habitation.  Just in time for me to go off and spend two days in Woburn (about once a month, I have to spend some days in our Woburn office--which means doing anything aside from my day job on those days is pretty much impossible).

Yeah, so this is not turning out to be the big kick-off I was hoping for.  I still have tomorrow to make something happen (maybe get those query letters out).  We'll see if I can salvage something out of this mess.

Another Visit to the Land of Infinite Tomorrows

Well, today was supposed to be my big kick-off day.  I planned to get Erin off to school bright and early, come back home and get things organized with work (I've got a lot on my plate this week, so I need to make sure I stay on top of things in order to minimize any late nights), spend a fun lunch time getting reacquainted with the gym, and then spend the evening sending out a new batch of query letters.

I was set, I tell you!  Psyched to get things off on the right foot.  But, fate--that is, fate taking the form of our home's century old clay plumbing--seemed to have missed a memo.

Instead of spending last night setting up my music area in my office, I was taking apart our washing machine, foolishly trying to convince myself that the rancid water filling the thing wasn't what I knew it was.

Instead of getting Erin off to school bright and early today, she and I had to contend with yet-another-two-hour-delay^TM (registered trade mark of Assumption School) as it seems to have rained last night.

Then, instead of heading off to the gym in my fancy new sneakers and snazzy new workout clothes, I spent my lunch hour giving a pair of plumbers a tour of my foul, oh-please-don't-that-smell-be-what-I think-it-is basement.

And tonight, instead of sending a pile of email queries to the list of agents I found over the weekend, I plan to be elbows deep in bleach as I scour every inch of my basement while mumbling incoherently about wire hangers to get myself through.

So yeah, not the huge start I was hoping for.  But, if it's any conciliation I don't think I'll be eating anything today--and possibly not even tomorrow.  At least I am on track on the diet.

Hope for better news tomorrow...