Arguably, dusting my sand collection is not a good use of my time. I should be preparing for the launch of Black Helicopters, which will be released on March 26.* I should be working on the book I started as soon as I sent the draft of 1910 to the editor. I could be focused with laser intensity on telling the story about the boy in ethical pants. Instead, I'm dusting my sand collection.
Judging by the tweets and status updates of other authors, they work harder than I do. They are more productive. They are more disciplined.
BIC HOK TAM
Butt in Chair
Hands Over Keyboard
Typing Away Madly
That really and truly is the way to get a book written.
But not right now.
Right now, I need time, time between stimulus and response, time to process the world and wonder about what it means. Because I don't know.
And that is why I'm giving myself latency: I need it.
So I dusted my sand collection, and I remembered that I have notes for a horror story about dust, and I thought about creating a book trailer for Black Helicopters. Maybe I'll write that story. Maybe I'll make that trailer. Certainly I need to do some indexing and move the laundry from the washer to the dryer. And when I sit down (BIC HOK) it will be because I've got something to write about the boy in ethical pants or the horror of dust. I will be typing away madly, without discipline, but with purpose.
*There will be no party. There will no cupcakes. Black Helicopters isn't a cupcake sort of book.