I can’t stop procrastinating this morning, in the face of two major deadlines. Every week, the way I write changes. Sometimes, it feels too easy. Sometimes too hard. And sometimes, an assignment feels too important to even begin.
So I spend a lot of time waiting until whatever I will write starts to rise off my chest. I never know how it will start, but when it comes, it comes rapidly.
This morning, I’m reading about Noël Coward, and feeling jealous of his life on holiday in Jamaica:
“Days began quietly, but by the end, he had packed them: painting, drinking, visiting with Hollywood guests and then—always—writing.”
I wish I were in the ocean right now, instead of sitting at my computer, having waking nightmares about men eating each other’s faces, unable to stop myself from clicking through endless inspirations, until together, they stitch together my thoughts, and allow me to work peacefully.
(Quote excerpted from an article by Joshua Cooper Ramo in the May/June 2012 issue of Departures.)
