Chapter 66: Embrace the Inner Slacker

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Do you sense any of a George Bush "Mission Accomplished" attitude here?

I feel like every post I step up to the podium and talk tough about how "this is the time" and "now it's gonna happen," but in actuality I focus on my job and then lay around with my wife, watching television.  That Writer's Market she gave me sits uncracked, because none of my novels are passed draft one.  I haven't even taken the time to go back and try to "perfect" them -- I just keep writing new ones, and as I do that, my old ones become less and less relevant.  And none of them become worthy of sending to agents.

And then I randomly pop on this blog, spout off what would be cheesy clichés in a sports movie, and the whole process repeats.

I've been becoming more of a slacker.  I've written, what, four books since beginning this blog, in addition to getting married, getting promoted, getting promoted again, and buying a new house. I used to have Herculean Nicholas Sparks energy. I'd feel like I was wasting precious time if I just sat around doing nothing, so while my wife lounged I'd break out the laptop and start writing.

But she's ruined me, I tells ya, ruined me.  Now, I want nothing more than to spend an entire Sunday sprawled out with her, doing absolutely nothing.  Never would I have enjoyed that.  To the contrary, I would have gone totally mad raving crazy eyed bonkers.

But now I look forward to it. And my writing career has suffered.

But as I prepare to hop on a train to travel into Hoboken, NJ, to a building overlooking the water, with the New York skyline beyond, I'm thinking to myself, is that really so bad?  I had a good run, and I'm sure I'll get back into it eventually -- there's still all those ideas kicking around, and all my old works that need to be upgraded -- but for now, can't I just enjoy spending time with my wife, doing absolutely nothing?

For now…