Yes, I know

I'm still writing about writing instead of, you know...actually writing. I am two weeks into my declared year of writing dangerously and I have yet to write one word on the actual manuscript. Any new words, that is.  I've got about 22,000 old words, but I have problems with many of them.

It's true that there is a certain amount of manuscript work that doesn't actually involve writing. I'm in the process of reviewing what I wrote last year, and trying to be brutally honest about what's working and what's not. There's also mental work that I can do any time...turning the plot over in my mind, exploring story possibilities, that sort of thing. But I'm well aware than none of that is the important part of the effort, and it's no substitute for adding to the word count.

So: I am "gearing up." This weekend I intended to go to Ikea in Burbank and acquire my writing desk, among other necessary items of furniture, but my Social Security Number puts me in the batch of citizens who will be getting their Economic Stimulus™ on the 16th. I'll be heading south this coming Saturday instead. As I've mentioned, Ikea figures into all this because I'm rearranging my surroundings to support my writing, which means a desk in a room with a door. Yeah, the fact that I haven't got the desk yet is one of those "excuses" I'm trying to identify and quash. I could write on the couch. I just haven't.

It's tough to create new habits out of whole cloth. I'm not whining, that's just a fact, so I'm cutting myself a little slack. I'm engaging in a number of different activities that support writing, including research on craft and technique, ramping up my own fiction intake, that sort of thing. Some of those efforts show up here: videos about the creative process, my own thoughts on craft, and so on. None of this is a substitute for sitting down in front of the computer and stringing words of fiction together. I know this.

I've read a lot of what writers have to say about writing. Without exception, any writer who has had any success whatsoever has said the same thing: writers write, and the ones who succeed do it every day. If they're not powerhouses like James Patterson, David Baldacci, or Stephen King--in other words, if they still have day jobs--they carve out time whenever they can. So my plan is to write every day at my new Swedish writing desk, once I have it. An honest-to-God writing schedule. Merciless. There will be a word count indicator on the right side of this page, and it damn well better go up every day. You have my permission to berate me if it doesn't.

It's important, I think, not to let the perfect be the enemy of the good. All my life I've written in fits and starts, when the mood struck me. I've never been much of a believer in "the muse," but I certainly know that there are some times when it's easier to write than others. To meet my stated goals, I'll have to write when I don't feel like writing, when I'm pretty sure that every sentence I write will be unadulterated crap, when I am most assuredly not in the zone.

Gabriel Garcia Marquez said that for all of his life, he was frightened at the moment he sat down to write. Margaret Atwood said that blank pages inspired her with terror. John Steinbeck spoke of his fear of putting down the first line. The fact that you've heard of them is a testament to their courage.

So. Next Saturday, in a frenzy of allen wrenching, I will remove the last practical excuse that I've been hiding behind. I'll put my ass in my new chair, fire up the computer on my new desk...and make my leap.