she's writing a novel

a lot of her writing tends to be tongue-in-cheek. this is because she grew up in an evangelical tradition which was more concerned about where else she might be putting her tongue.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Words for Whoopee

The Russian lover is on to me.

He’s caught on to what I thought were my very subtle procrastination devices.

Cleaning! There is always the floor to vacuum and dishes to wash and things to pick up and shelves of books to put in alphabetical order by author and title. And it does need to be done…But then the Russian lover counters: Yes, but you said it yourself. Those things are always there to be done. And when you do them instead of writing, you are not being a fantastic helpful roommate. You are being a procrastinating writer.

Reading! I am reading and reading is an important part of any writer’s diet. I’m reading the news, so I am current and aware. I’m reading popular blogs, so that I can see what other people are reading and writing. This way I know exactly who is talented and becoming successful, so I can feel even worse that I am not a success. (Or, I know who is not talented and is becoming successful, so I can gloat at the thought of their forthcoming fall from acclaim). The Russian lover counters: Stop reading blogs and start writing yours. It is hard to argue with that kind of succinct summation.

Preparing! I’m looking up writing exercises on the internet , to give me ideas or a place to start when nothing particular is coming to mind. This is not procrastination. This is legitimate research, and a real effort directed toward the act of writing. It’s prewriting.

It’s bullshit, says the Russian lover, who finds this to be my most egregious excuse yet.

So here I am, perusing a creative writing site which purports to help me “Pump my Muse.” I’m vaguely uncomfortable with their offer; it sounds a bit like the sort of proposition made to you by a transvestite crack whore on 13th and Locust. I laugh and point this out to the Russian lover, who has finally had enough of my lethargic attitude in general and my attempts at procrastination in particular. He decides to counter with a threat.

And not just any threat. The threat. The one threat that makes me pay attention; the one threat that prompts me to amend my behavior almost immediately:

No sex unless you write.


So, here it is –a blog and a bid to get laid.

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