No, I actually don't like running

And other things I've recently lied to myself about.

Guys, I need to talk about myself for a minute. I know, I know. In a world where social media has taken over and the "look at me!" trend is almost unbearable, why on Earth would you want to waste your time reading about little ol' me? I get it and I completely understand if you move on right this instant, flick on Netflix and watch some Walking Dead (or whatever else may tickle your fancy). Hell, if I could right now I'd do the same thing.

I wasn't planning on writing this blog but I'm sitting here, losing my mind with absolute boredom, knowing above all that I should be writing but not wanting to. Earlier, I halfheartedly opened up my browser and found some awesome templates to help with the movement of my story (and YES! I am going to share those in a different post, promise). I'm still not satisfied with my day. I want to be productive and yet I absolutely loathe being productive. 

And then it hit me.

SCREECH! 

I need to back up the story, so you get the whole picture, to a tussle my husband and I had recently. Maybe last night, maybe a few nights ago. I don't keep that close of track honestly.

Well, a few nights ago (or whenever said thing happened) my delightfully wonderful husband (note-sarcasm) suggested we go on nightly and/or morning runs. I smiled lovingly at him and nodded my head enthusiastically at him. 

"Absolutely!" I exclaimed. 

He subtly (note-not subtly at all) narrowed his eyes at me. "I mean tonight."

I sighed and set my book down. "I can't tonight. It's too late and the house needs to be cleaned and clothes need to be laundered." 

I thought I made a great case. That was until he got that irritated ruffle that happens in his big, manly eyebrows and I knew this wasn't going to be pretty.

"That's what you said last night." I tried to interrupt but he just kept on going. "And the night before. Why are you avoiding this?"

I shook my head in disgust. "I'm not. I like running. I want to do it, there just isn't time."

"Love, be honest with yourself at the very least." And he walked away.

HE.WALKED.AWAY.

I sat there for what felt like hours trying to justify my cause. I do like running. But his words kept replaying and replaying. He is freaking right. I like running better than other forms of fitness--but I don't truly like running. I have been lying to myself.

What the hell else have I convinced myself of?

I've been pondering that answer since this revelation. Here are a few things that I've realized I've completely lied to myself about:

1. I am a "what-to-do-er" not a "do-er". This means that I love finding out how to do something but when it comes to actually doing said thing I have to force myself into gear-no matter what.

2. It's tough for me to finish things. I lose steam easy and it's really hard to keep going once I've hit the lull of my motivation.

3. I like candy over fruit. (I will never admit this one to my husband)!

4. I love everything about writing-- all except the writing part. (Although I will force myself through it because I love the end result.)

5. I'm terrified of social media. That shit is out there for life. It is a scar on humanity and I'm not sure I want to leave all the dirty out there. I may want to be president one day! 

6. I hate the computer. I use it out of necessity and as much as I want to be a "computer nerd", I've lied to myself about this long enough. LIBERATION, my friends!

7. I secretly love romance in novels. I have been trying desperately to act like it doesn't matter, but a part of me dies inside when it's not present.

8. Finally, I make excuses. Lots of them. Hence all the lying of done and believed because, well, it's easier. 

BACK TO TODAY

I know why I'm being a thorn today. Why my mind feels like moving a million miles an hour, and my body feels like it's wired and I have nothing to show for it. It's because I'm not using my full potential. I'm lying to myself, whether it be from fear or laziness or doubt, I'm pushing myself into a corner making it impossible to do anything else. 

At twenty-six years old, I should know I've been doing this. I should've been able to stop it sooner but I didn't. 

I can't go back, as much as I'd love to. I can only look forward and I'm realizing now that it's happening. And sadly it's going to happen. Sometimes that part of me will win. But today? Today, I finally caught on and I'm not going to let it drag me under. Look, I've even got this cool blog post to show that I've made progress. Admitting is half the battle no? And I'm making myself accountable by putting it in the never delete-able universe. I feel like that's a step forward.

Now, I'm going to go work on my writing (the part I hate) because I want to get to the good parts.

Ciao. 

Death to Creativity!

And other nonsensical writing things.

You may have seen my comments yesterday, or you may have just scrolled on through. Either way it's still bothering me. 

My book that is.

I am so frustratingly irritated with it. Kill Match was supposed to be my baby. The book that showed my growth as a writer from Red until now. That proves I can take the feedback I received, turn it into something spectacular and do this one right. It is original, character rich and plot driven. I like the events of the story. Hell, I even like the writing thus far of the story. But for whatever reason on this holy plot of writer's hell I'm in, I am having an excruciating moment of "stillness". 

Oh? You've never heard of this "stillness" phase I'm speaking of? Here, let me enlighten you.

Every time, every. freaking. time, I pick up Kill Match to continue writing I get this awful headache and lose any creativity I thought I might have stored up there to be able to finish this stupid thing. JUST TO FINISH IT. I'm not even trying to put well thought out words down anymore, I simply just want them to relate-able to the story. But when I try to push through this freeze of my brain, it fights me. It yells and kicks and screams that I just need to be still. Calm. And that I "just need to walk away for a moment". But that moment? Oh yeah, it lasts days. Then my brain and I have the same conversation again when I come back to it later. 

It's the freaking stillness. 

Now, I am a big believer in fate. Truly, all laughing matters aside. I think the best choices in life shouldn't be forced (I'm not saying not worked for, there's a HUGE difference) and I believe my brain, no matter how stupid and unnecessary I think it is, is trying to tell me something. So instead of being miserable and not writing at all because I am hating everything about the process, I have decided to move on.

For now.

Because in the wake of not being able to finish Kill Match no matter what I have done to the contrary, my imagination has given me a gem of a thought. A sparkle of a novel that after spending a couple hours yesterday I have completely plotted out. I've finished several plot worksheets, character bios, Q&A's on the novel and mocked up how the entire series will play out (not in complete detail). In a few hours on this one story I have done more pre-planning than every other story I've written combined before I've even starting the writing process on this (usually I start writing first, plan later).

Where I thought my "writer" was broken, I found that I was trying to force something it just didn't want to do. I'm not as ecstatic about this new novel yet but I really believe it'll be a good story with real potential and I'm looking forward to writing it. 

Here's my advice my dear beloved writers, if it's not working--bury it. 

OK, that's a little over dramatic. Maybe you don't need to bury it. But move on for a little while. I am planning to pick Kill Match back up at some point-- I love the story too much to let it rot, but I've come to the realization that regardless of my planned outcome of my published stories, my "writer" has a different path. And now I know I need to be open and ready for that. 

Sometimes you just have to know when to look for the window after you've bashed your head against the door for too long.

Ciao.

JB