How Drake and Josh Are Destroying My Novel

I never thought procrastination would be so simple, but I found a way.

I found a way.

I set out  working on chapter seven of my story and somehow found myself plunging into the ether of pop culture sludge.

For literally no reason at all, I began looking into the Drake and Josh controversy.

In case you don’t know what I’m talking about, Drake Bell found out Josh Peck was getting married via social media instead of through the man himself. Outraged that he wasn’t contacted about it, Drake immediately lapsed into insanity and began berating Josh through Twitter instead of….you know…actually talking to the guy.

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Naturally, the internet led the charge against Josh, decrying him for committing such a treacherous act against his on-screen brother and real life bff. How dare he not invite his “brotha” to such a momentous occasion? Didn’t he realize we’re all watching him?

Memes were created as effigies against the traitor. His Facebook and Twitter feed were bombarded with hateful comments.

Good news: it appears they have since made up as evidenced by a recently posted vlog by Josh Peck.

Bad news: I apparently care about this sh*t.

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I loved Drake and Josh as a kid, but they are real people with real lives that are none of my business. Why did I take it upon myself to do research on this subject? Why do I care so much about people I will never meet and (in spite of giving me a few hours worth of laughs) really didn’t contribute that much to my life?

It’s amazing the mental gymnastics I will do just to avoid a rough writing session. That’s really what it comes down to: Not wanting to write a difficult chapter

And my mind will do anything–question anything—if it gets me off the hook.

I don’t even want to talk about all the WatchMojo videos I’ve watched in an attempt to drain my evening of writing time.

Oh crap, I just spent three hours watching clips from Carrie and analyzing how Sissy Spacek’s portrayal of the main character was much better than the one from the 2013 movie. 

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Look at those dead eyes! 

Oh well. Guess I don’t have time to write now. 

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Then I lie awake it bed, feeling hopelessly guilty that I thwarted what few hours I have on this earth watching crappy five minutes videos, caught in my own web of self-defeatism, when I could be contributing to the ever-growing nest of culture that is the arts and humanities.

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It doesn’t matter how many cups of coffee I throw back or how much atmospheric music I play, even Enya can’t save me from my bad habits so pervasive in my mind that they have decided to colonize as many lobes as possible.

All I can hope for is that, eventually, I will strike the right cord. The chapter I am currently working on I have rewritten about sixteen times. No hyperbole.

However, I’ve decided (for the fourth week in a row) that this will be my weekend. This will be the week that I finish that damn chapter. This time I won’t be distracted by WatchMojo or watch the Stephen King It trailer for the twentieth time even though I despise remakes and, after closer examination, have almost no desire to see it.

I suppose there is nothing for it.

All I can do is look my story dead in the eye and say…

Eh…maybe next week.

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My Muse Hates Free Time

Does anyone else get their ideas when it’s most inconvenient?

I think I am at my most creative during the height of the school semester where everything is due and my entire future hangs in the balance..

I’ll be mentally calculating how much time I should commit to studying and she’ll show up, donut in hand, asking “hey, what would it be like if the human race was forced to live under the sea?”

“Now is not a good time,” I’ll say, reading about Metella and how she likes to sit in the atrium.

“What if they were down there for so long that they forgot what life on land was like?”

I’ll pause. “That sounds kind of cool.”

“Yeah. You should totally spend the next five hours thinking about it.”

“I have a test tomorrow in a foreign language.”

“If you don’t write down everything now you will forget about it and you’ll never be published. You will spend the rest of your life working a 9-5 grind. Your soul will become drier and drier until you are simply a husk of inadequacy.”

“Crap. You’re right.”

When I actually have some downtime, however, my muse can’t be bothered. She’ll be out partying with her other muse friends, only to turn up around 12 a.m. to tell me about how she worked out a way to fill that plothole in my last project. Which, of course, I’ll be too tired to do anything about.

Writers aren’t supposed to wait for their muses to show up. They’re meant to start writing and slowly their muses will materialize.

But it’s so much more difficult writing without her. She makes it more exciting. Sure, she doesn’t always have the best ideas, but at least she makes it fun.

A Good Habit is Hard to Find

I’m trying to change my habits.

But the bad ones just seem so engrained into me that if I were to exfoliate them like dead skin off of a calloused foot, I would have to keep going until I hit a bone.

My bad habits are the axis on which my bizarre world turns. They make up who I am.

Luckily I don’t smoke or drink in excess. However, my propensity to procrastinate on my life goals and resist improvement are just as hazardous to my future.

If I have an assignment or task given to me by a third party, I have no issue doing it. When it comes to providing goals for myself that have no consequences for anyone else, however, I struggle to keep them.

Especially when it comes to my writing goals.

I open the story, type one sentence, decide it sucks, and then set my laptop on fire.

My Instagram feed is awash with inspirational quotes about persistence, but none of them sink in. Even if a chubby old nun were to burst into my room one morning and sing at me to climb every mountain, I’m still not sure if the message would come through.

Regardless, I desperately want to be the type of person that sets goals and achieves them.

I also want to be the person that can look up funny internet videos until 1:00 in the morning and be fully awake for their morning shift.

But mostly that first one.

I just have to remember that others have stood where I stand right now and were able to overcome even greater odds. I will keep my head high and remind myself:

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Sucking (Writing) a Little Every Day Part II

I wrote a post around 6 months ago about how I was going to write every single day, no matter how much the product sucked.

And for a while, I stuck to that goal. However, in recent months I’ve had difficulty maintaining.

Some reasons are legitimate like I have had homework to do and personal matters arose. However, a lot of this stems from my self-doubt and internet addiction (see “I Can’t Write At Home. The Internet Wants My Soul”).

Half of the time it’s like I’m pushing against an invisible barrier that I can’t seem to budge. I prepare myself to write, but as soon as I open the page or word document, I freeze up. Everything goes blank.

Maybe it’s because the story I’m working on is going to take more time and effort than I originally thought, or because I am wanting to change the direction of it and am afraid that I’ll take away all that was good about it before.

Since I’m due to graduate soon, I will be expected to get something called a…jobe? Joab? Something like that. Anyway, I won’t have nearly as much free time at my disposal. This means I need to kick it into high gear if I want to birth a book into the world before I’m in my 30s.

I need to go back to writing for at least an hour every single day. That’s every single day.

Not days that I feel like it, not days that it’s convenient, every day.

Even when it feels like I’m sucking.

Ode to My Lack of Motivation

They say one of the best things about being a writer is that you can do it in your pajamas. I’m inclined to agree (although I very rarely write in my pjs ). But it goes farther than that. One of the greatest things about being a writer is the freedom to express yourself.

However, freedom is a double-edged sword.

If you don’t show up to work with no explanation, you will likely be fired.

If you don’t write for a day, nothing will happen.

Absolutely nothing.

No one is going to phone you and demand to know why your word count is so low. No one is going to call you into their office because you were watching a Youtube video instead of filling in those plot holes you created in the third chapter.

Chances are nobody will care at all.

And that’s one of the reasons why I struggle with writing.

Nothing bad actually happens if I don’t write. I suppose you could consider not finishing a book/blog post/short story bad, but it isn’t really.

When you think about it, there are billions of people on the earth. Not that many of them write books before they kick it. Would the universe really think less of you if you were just another Joe Shmoe that didn’t write a novel? Probably not.

And because nobody else does, it is up to you to do all the caring. And caring is very difficult. Particularly when you’re the only one doing it.

Rewriting: Once More with Feeling!

I experience a mixed bag of emotions when I’m rewriting a piece.

One emotion is excitement because I’m fixing things I had problems with in the original draft. Another is trepidation because I’m worried that the things I actually did enjoy about my original draft will have to be cut out.

Each thing you change in a story has a domino effect. One little paragraph can completely change the tone.

You have to choose what you change very carefully.

There’s also the humiliation of realizing you actually let another human being read this when it doesn’t remotely resemble what you hoped it would be.

I’m going to attempt to do something I’ve never done before.

I am going to literally take it page by page and rework as much as I can in my favor. Every word I don’t like, every clumsy sentence, every image that isn’t just right is going to get the hedge clippers.

Just the thought makes me want to drink an entire bottle of whisky straight out of the bottle, but it seems as though this is the only method that will make this venture worth while.

How else will I justify spending months on this thing?

The Dreaded Sunday Slump

Does anyone else have a difficult time writing on Sunday?

For me, it’s one of the most grueling days to get any work done.

Here I am, in a cafe, sitting in front of a laptop with a Pages document open to a story I’ve been writing for God knows how long, and all I can think of is how soft my bed probably is right now.

Is it the anticipation of the week ahead that steals my ability to concentrate? Is it the sum total of all of last week’s burdens that are weighing on my back?

Or am I just a lazy person that will use any excuse not to get any work done?

Does it have to be one or the other?

As far as I’m concerned, Sundays are no good for writing. Or doing anything.

Wait until Monday and I’ll be a solar-powered factory of productivity. A consort battleship of…doing stuff.

Oh, I will plow through as I’m wont to do. However, I shall do so very crankily and with much lethargy. Not to mention writer’s block.

This is a Story about YOU: a Documentary

A few weeks ago, I was given an assignment to create an autobiographical piece for my documentary class.

No big deal, I thought. I talk about myself on my blog all the time. Producing a 10 minute video over a subject I know intimately should be no struggle.

It is such a struggle.

I’ve amassed a pretty impressive collection of B-roll (a supplemental or alternative footage intercut with the main shot), but I am completely blanking on what to write for my voice-over narration.

I decided that the scope of the video should be over my writing. However, writing has encompassed so much of my life, it seems nearly impossible to cover the things that have influenced my craft.

Because everything has impacted my writing: relationships, moves, friends, adventures, boredom, books, journals, good days, bad days, age, etc.

There are so many moments, too many to count, that have changed how I view the world. However, I can’t, nor should I try to, address every instance. For one thing it would be too long, for another it would be too boring.

Melodrama is also a factor I am trying to avoid.

Nothing is worse than watching a self-indulgent cheese-fest for 10 minutes while trapped in a classroom for over an hour.

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Nobody cares about your dead parakeet, Judith! No one!

Well, time for screenwriting attempt number 300.

Anyone have a tragic background story they aren’t using?

I Can’t Write At Home. The Internet Wants My Soul

Out of curiosity, how many of you guys write from home?

Because I can’t.

I’ve tried but, for whatever reason, being at home just feeds my addiction to the internet.

I boot up my laptop, game face on and notes in my hand, only for my Facebook page to pop up on the screen like-

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Next thing I know, I’m on Youtube and watching videos on how to survive a nuclear fallout.

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In order to get down to business, I must journey to a coffee shop or restaurant and spend two to three hours typing away while mindlessly nibbling or sipping their wares.

This isn’t always a convenient arrangement as sometimes the weather is not favorable for travel, or sometimes I don’t complete my daily responsibilities until later when these places are closed.

Oh, that’s fine, I say to myself, I’ll just get some writing done at home. 

Internet:

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The answer seems simple: disconnect from the WiFi.

However, even if I do that, I will become distracted by something else. I’ll watch a movie I purchased on iTunes. I’ll look through my photos I took on vacation. I’ll edit a silly video I made on iMovie.

There’s a cornucopia of possibilities for mindless activities.

I suppose I’ll just have to consider these places my office for the time being and respect my inconvenient habits.

I suppose it’s better than not writing at all.

I Write Slowly

I will be the first to say I am not always the most productive human being. At least when it comes to writing. This, however, is not entirely due to my proclivity to procrastinate. I just happen to write very, very, very, very slow.

My typing isn’t the issue. I can actually key words relatively quickly. It’s just for, whatever reason, it takes an act of God for me to write more than five paragraphs on a good day.

I’ll be happy, writing away, and think off-handedly “Wow! Two whole pages already! I wonder how long I’ve been at this. Oh, six years.”

It’s like if I ever want to actually get anything done, I have to seclude myself in one of those Dragon Ball Z hyperbolic time chambers.

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Minus the heavy gravity, temperature fluctuations, and dense air, obviously.

Forget the Scrivener, that would be the best invention a writer like me could ask for. However, I would need at least two years inside there before I could finish a major project.

Hey, it takes a while to get the dialogue and action just right. There is also the issue of rewrites along with new ideas that need to be explored.

You can’t rush these things.