I am really tired of my desk. Workstation. The space where my iMac G5 sits ensconced like disorganized royalty. Cable modem.  Printer. Keyboard.  Mouse.  Mousepad.  Stapler.  Small cords that connect the computer and USB port to my digital camera and my husband’s iPod and so on…

Thing is, I’m working. I am. Reworking that novel.  I am just about finished with chapter eight.  Almost done. Nineteen chapters are in the original manuscript, so I’m not even half-way through yet. It is, though, far too easy to become distracted by other online pursuits, by music, by domestic concerns (laundry, dishes, prepping for dinner, checking bread recipes) and by the demands of my body to just MOVE, already.

Being a writer, though, requires discipline. I have told I don’t know how many people that, over the years. Yes, you need imagination. The ability to express yourself. The understanding of how a good story develops into a marketable commodity. All of these are important.

But they mean less than nothing if you cannot discipline yourself to work at the story in question until it is done. Finished.  Polished.  Ready to pass along to entertain or edify someone else.  Agent, editor, publisher, or even just your family.

So… So I make myself sit here at the keyboard when, really, I’d kind of like to go see the Beowulf movie I picked up on a sale rack recently.  (Cheap DVDs are good!)  I’d like to take a walk in the wind – and I could really use the exercise! – but I have a self-imposed deadline and I must meet it!

I will, too.  I will.  And I’m going to start by finishing chapter eight of nineteen before the next “big o’clock” as Builder would call it.

Listening to Weird Al Yankovic all the while.

Tags: discipline, self-publishing, Writing