This was a pretty productive morning, where I wrote a lot of concrete thoughts (if there can be such a thing) on a couple of short stories I have to turn in ASAP. Apparently I’m terrified that one of the stories just flat-out doesn’t work, but I decided to let the editor make the call on that one. I did manage to pull out more on the idea of swerving away from the things you’re scared of, though. I interrupted myself a lot this morning.
A note on something–I have a number of reading lists that I try to work through, to reflect the reading habits I want to have, and the territory I want to cover. For some reason it occurred to me that I wasn’t reading an entire category of books that I’d resolved to read: the works of long-term professional writers. I started to explore that and…
…
I have a hard time reading long-term pro-writers’ work [on a regular basis]. Like not that it’s terrible or anything. Just–I don’t have the discipline for it. Why is that? Well, a) where’s the list [of long-term professional writers that I can dip into], and b) you’ve read some books that are totally not for you. Just not. So you swerve.
There, too? Shit, that’s annoying. Like, new resolution: don’t swerve. But it’s hard to prejudge the state of not swerving, because the whole point is to not have to encounter something. A good goal, but perhaps one that–
[Subconscious refuses to let me finish the sentence.]
Don’t swerve from success.
[…]
Just stop fucking yourself over. Force the universe to cough up an enemy [that isn’t you].
…
If you enjoyed this morning’s journal, check out my novella, All the Retros at the New Cotton Club. It’s all about a character who swerves from the truth.