A Writing Habit Is a Fragile Thing
A writing habit is a fragile thing.
I sat down to write a short story this morning, I swear. I even had an outline ready. But I had to turn on my computer and, while the operating system loaded, I thought it wouldn’t hurt to have a quick peek at U.S. Election news.
After about an hour of watching numbers grow at a glacial place and getting lost in a handful of Twitter rabbit holes, I noticed it was time to take my son to school.
The plan was to make up for it during my lunch break. I could have a light meal, eat it quickly, and sneak in half an hour of writing before I had to go back to work. But my wife asked if I wanted to go out and grab some pie at a bakery nearby.
In my defense, it is Friday. I am a simple man with even simpler pleasures. No matter how noble my creative aspirations were, they could not compete with pie.
I told myself I could write in the evening, right after picking up my son from pre-school. Sometimes I can sneak in an hour of quiet work while he plays with his toys, before dinner and bedtime. Today, though, he wanted me to play with him — and some things, unlike pie, truly are more important than writing.
Before I noticed it, it was 9 PM. I hadn’t even written the first paragraph in my story, and it was too late to start it. My mind was clouded by daydreams of pie, Buzz Lightyear action figures, and election officials in Philadelphia.
My story would have to wait until tomorrow. A writing habit is a fragile thing.
But, in a heroic effort, I did gather the strength to write this post with all my excuses for not writing.
I guess that’s how you build a writing habit.