Today I wrote a post on words over at my main site.
Why did I write it? Why am I writing here?
Apparently, I can write over 50,000 words in a month. But to eek out a mere six thousand for a fascinating (no, really!) research paper I need to complete by next Tuesday?
Well, just today the toilet was scrubbed, I let my husband vacuum, I invoiced some clients, we went shopping for bathroom wall paint…
What do you do when you are procrastinating a writing deadline? Because they generally are sudden creatures, those deadlines. It’s not like I didn’t know about this one since September.
I find that all the yarn in my stash is begging for me to cast on (I started another cowl late last night) or random books are interesting me, or that I suddenly must clean and reorganise every book in our disorganised library. Meals become more elaborate and thought out. Anything so that I do not have to do what I want and need to do … which is write on a topic I enjoy.
This paper? Well, the class is looking at the voices of anonymous women and the violence often given when trying to write their voices or the impossibility of that task. I’m looking at the changes technology hath wrought on that. Look at how twitter responded to the horrid #mumbai attacks this past week. Sure, more are able to write, but they are doing it in public spaces (not necessarily street art, I mean in blogs and web forums and things). So why am I not writing?
I think I’ve become too close to the topic. I need to step back.
Bye, I’m going to clean my desk.
