Category — whining

I’ve avoided new Years resolutions like the plague for years.

After years of failure to truly eat better, exercise more, stay in touch with people better, and all the other fruitless promises I made myself every new year, I gave up on trying. My reasoning was that if I hadn’t already made those changes in my life, then a change in the calendar year wasn’t going to suddenly give me motivation – I had to really want it for myself, otherwise I was just setting myself up for disappointment.

Yet, here I am, in the early days of a new year, contemplating making some resolutions.

These resolutions? To write more and draw more snarky stick people to share with the world. I’ve made these promises loads of times throughout the year and not kept it – you can tell by the total lack of recent posts or Stick Note Fridays – and I’ve often asked myself why I don’t blog more and draw more, and I’ve been asked that by the few people who were disappointed that I stopped.

I haven’t got any really good reasons, but here are a few anyway:

1. I’ve been working on a novel. I’m struggling a little with it a the moment, but it’s taken up most of my days for quite a long time now.
2. I stopped caring about blogging. I wrote the odd book review, sure, but mostly I did it to see if anyone was still reading. They weren’t (and who can blame them?). In this case, I let my silly little ego get its feelings hurt because no one was reading the stuff I wasn’t writing. Dumb? Yes, yes it is.
3. I don’t take my drawings the least bit seriously. You know, to the point where I don’t draw them because, what the hell, they’re just stick people, right? My husband has informed me that he thinks I’m throwing away my talent at drawing just because it’s not high art. He’s right, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing – despite being told by him, and several other people, that I could really make something of those drawings.

So what’s my point, you ask?

I want to change that. I know it’s going to be a bloody hard uphill struggle to overcome that negative voice in the back of my head – I call her The Insidious Bitch- that keeps whispering, “Keep your day job, honey, you’re gonna need it.” (never mind that my “day job” has been working on a novel, and I’ve not been paid a cent for working at it).

So – and you must pardon the crude language – fuck you, Insidious Bitch. You can whisper your taunts and doubts all you like, you can scream them in my ear if you want, but this is the year that I fight back. 2012 is mine, and you are going down, back into that dark little filth-hole from whence you came.

You see, you awful, stroppy cow, I’ve been given the gift of time and freedom by my wonderful husband. He’s green-lighted this novel writing business from the get-go, and you’ve been holding me back. He’s supported, praised and giggled at all my silly drawings too, and I let you talk me out of them.

Well, I’m finally angry enough to do something about it. I’m not going to stand with my back against the door anymore, hoping like hell I can keep you out. I’m going to let you in, and then stick something sharp and stabby into your heart.

Watch out; I’m angry, and I’ve learned to tread lightly and carry a big sword.

I have finally got up enough courage to start writing what I think may turn out to be a novel (or a really, really long short story – hard to say).

I’m at the 30,000 word mark and I’ve discovered that writing stories makes you a little mental.

On a good day of writing, my 2000 word minimum comes easy as though the words were being dictated by the people in the story and I was just the recording secretary.

I love these days.

The bad days definitely feel like me doing the work. Each word comes as though I were pulling it out of thick mud, or excavating it out of a diamond with nothing but a sharp stick and willpower.

Over the last few days I have abandoned all sense of pride and started arguing with the characters:

Me: C’mon…I can’t write this by myself! I don’t even know what happens!

Them: Why should we do all the work? You showed up late today and completely neglected us last Friday.

Me: But, the kid upstairs used the sprinkler to water my bedroom though the open window. I can’t be held responsible for that little devil spawn’s actions!

Them: Whatever lady – but hey, good luck and stuff.

So, I’ve spent the last few days feeling like I watched most of the finale of the most awesome show that ever was, only to miss the last 15 minutes because the cable cut out.

And worse, my characters are all wandering around with superior smirks on their faces because they know how it ended.

Jerks.

Yesterday, I attended an Emotus Operandi meeting – the meeting that will help me get my butt in gear and moving forward with my work.

I made a great 2-week plan at the meeting:

• 3 pages of writing
• 2 blog posts a week
• 2 drawings a week

I will have to explain my success or failure with these goals at the check-in in two weeks.

So today, I cleaned the apartment, took out all the recycling – and did I then sit down to work?

I did not.

I found myself suddenly wanting to play World of Warcraft. I thought, “Oh why bother with work now. It’s 1 p.m., starting anything is pointless.”

Part of me was being as charming as a toddler throwing a tantrum – “I don’t wanna work! I wanna play. You’re mean and I hate you!”

But, after meeting the other people at Emotus Operandi, I feel a sense of responsibility. On the days when I can’t get it together for me, I should try anyway because the idea of going back to the group empty-handed after all that great advice I got is unthinkable.

And now that I did some work, I can go play with a clear conscience!