I suppose if I ever want to finish the stories I began, I need to write them. It sounds logical, but I can almost always find an excuse, er, uh, I mean a reason why I can’t do it today. But tomorrow, tomorrow will be the perfect day to sit down and make it happen.

I have done about everything that I thought I needed to do in order to be prepared to write. I have my own little writing space away from distraction. I have a writing desk, my laptop, paper and pens and pencil (if I feel so inclined), a miniature globe (thanks to my daughter), and plenty of light. I’m all set. Now all I need to do is, as Ernest Hemingway put it, “Sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” Oh, that’s what I’m missing … a typewriter.

Who Wants to be a Millionaire?

I read an article on LinkedIn a few years ago that was something like The Seven Things Millionaires Have in Common. Maybe the title was nothing like that, I can’t remember, but the part that stuck out most to me was the question: Why are there no television commercials for Lamborghinis? The answer: The people who can afford a Lamborghini aren’t wasting their time watching TV. And instantly, I realized, “Wow, I’m never going to be a millionaire.”

But since then, and especially recently after a conversation with a respected friend, whenever I find myself lounging on the couch with the television on, I can’t help but think about how I am doing absolutely nothing. Don’t get me wrong, I am greatly enjoying the nothingness, but I also want to be a published author, and instead of working to make that happen, I’m either flipping through the channels or rewatching a show I have watched multiple times already. That doesn’t mean I immediately turn the television off and start writing, but the thought creeps in that maybe if I want to succeed in my goal, I might have to consider trading in some of my lounging time for writing time. I’m still mulling it over.

Who Wants to Set Goals?

Speaking of goals, setting one or two might not be a bad idea. I mean, sure, I have the goal to write and publish a book, but that’s a pretty broad goal with not a lot of direction to get there. I don’t much care for restrictions.

And just now, as I turned on some relaxing piano music to fill the space while I write, an ad popped up about procrastination, and I realize that is exactly what I am doing now. I have begun three separate stories – one at least eight years ago, and it really is my favorite. It is my version of telling a true war story (The Things They Carried, by Tim O’Brien – if you haven’t read it, I highly recommend it). No one will believe the most true parts, and the believable parts are the untruths placed there solely to keep the reader believing. That probably sounds a little more dramatic than it is. It’s light-hearted and funny all the same.

So I will stop this blog post here and write on my story. If my book doesn’t get written, it’s because I didn’t write it.