Writing Should Be Writing

Books I Bought Last Week:

-Drive by James Sallis

-Freedom by Jonathan Franzen

-The Imprefectionists by Tom Rachman

-Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier

-Snow Falling on Cedars by David Guterson

-The Kiss by Kathryn Harrison

-Poison by Kathryn Harrison

-The Binding Chair by Kathryn Harrison

-Mad Girl’s Love Song by Andrew Wilson

Books I’ve Finished This Year:

-East of Eden by John Steinbeck, 600 pages

-Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway, 120 pages

-Silk by Alessandro Barico, 94 pages

-Weird Things Customers Say in Bookstores, 144 pages

-The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, 230 pages

-Animal Farm, 93 pages

(I’m realizing that my new goal should be to not buy a stack of books that exceed the number that I’ve read thus far that year. So, maybe, come November or December I can be more careless with my book acquisition, whereas February should still be modest.)

After attending ASU’s 2013 Desert Nights, Rising Stars Conference this weekend, I left so enthused. I had story ideas and starts, I was encouraged about the prospects of finding an agent (with self-publishing so prominent now, agents are actively looking for authors), and I got a huge download of new information that I can use both for my own education and for educating others. Let’s face it: educating others is just a more advanced way of educating yourself.

But now that I’m “back to real life,” I’ve realized a list of rules and boundaries I need to adhere to. (If I don’t keep to this list, no one will for me.)

I [insert name here] solemnly swear to respect myself and my writing, and that means these things:

1.      Go to bed means go to bed. There’s no faster way to fall behind schedule than to drag through it with a sleep-hangover.

2.       Writing time means writing time: not Facebook time. ‘Nuff said.

3.       I will sit down to write with everything I will need. That means no getting up to get a drink. Or a snack. Or to check email. Or to check snail mail. Or to water the plants. You know something is wrong if I get up to water plants.

4.     Once glued to the chair, I will only allow some out-the-window time. I can’t swear to not look out the window (let’s be honest here) but I will be aware of how much I am looking out the window. Substitute window for checking nails. Substitute nails for working tangles out of my hair. Substitute hair for- you get the idea. No one realizes how poorly groomed they are until they’re [not] writing.

5.     If I hate what I am writing, I give myself permission to write something else. This does not mean blogging or Facebook status updates. Writing should come easily.

On this day –February 26, 2013- I declare that I will uphold these ideals and that if I don’t, I will conceal it and still tell everyone I’m a writer though I don’t produce a single word. Just kidding. Maybe.