Why am I not writing my novel right now?
Because I am blogging, of course. But there are many reasons why I might now be writing at any given moment and these are some. All equally valid and probable.
I’m editing
I swear I spend more time editing than writing. So typically this is the answer to that question.
I’m sleeping?
I write at night and in theory, I could, instead, be sleeping. But let’s face it, insomnia is far more pervasive than that. I don’t sleep. I hover and dip into sleep-like states for a few minutes a night. And then get stuck in sleep paralysis.
I’m frozen with a cat on my lap
I could be writing but Bobby has trapped my arm and I have only one hand left. Apparently to pet him.
I am compelled by the lure of social media
I could be writing but instead, I am scrolling through Facebook or Tumblr. And wondering why I am bored. I fear it might be an addiction called procrastination.
I’m maintaining my other blog
Yeah, I could be writing that novel but I also have to write a post on my health-related blog and then do some image creation. And social media like Pinterest. And now I am pinning on here as well, so there is that to maintain. Thankfully, I don’t get paid for any of this. Wait? What?
I have a migraine
Just kidding. I always have a migraine and that doesn’t stop me unless it is massively painful. Because when you get something all the time you sort of stretch it into tolerable pain vs. intolerable pain. Functional vs. non-functional. But, I could be editing out all the extremely bizarre typos my brain came up with while writing with a migraine.
I’m having a midnight snack
Mmmm. Peanut butter toast. My love for peanut butter has no limits.
I’m meditating
And usually thinking instead of focusing on it. My mind wanders. And weird thoughts crop up out of nowhere. I achieve enlightenment and then ruin it by thinking about my taxes.
I’m having an existential crisis
Always. This.
I’m completely zoned out
I’m thinking about my writing but not actually writing. Or I am thinking about brain fluff and nothing else. I may, or may not, be drooling and staring off into space.
I’m plotting to take over the world
Usually. On a good day.
I’m working on my robot body replacement
Okay, chronic pain sucks. So why not build a robot body to replace that sucky pain-body? Hell, yeah! So far it is duct tape and cardboard boxes I tore away from the cats. It’s a work in progress.
I spilled tea all over myself and the floor
Literally. I just spilled tea all over the damn place. I am too clumsy to exist sometimes.
I’ve been kidnapped by aliens
Turns out that wasn’t sleep paralysis I was having. It was a regular alien kidnapping. They just return me after we chat and have tea. But I never remember because the alien is sharing his deepest darkest secrets with me. And so wipes my memory so I don’t accidentally ‘share’ it on social media.
The world has ended
Could happen. And I wouldn’t be writing. I’d be fighting in the zombie apocalypse. Or I’d be a smoldering pile of ash. If the world is going to end, let’s go with the zombie apocalypse. At least we have a fighting chance. Assuming we are not a zombie. And I am very slow, so I’d be a zombie. I can’t outrun a sloth. I’d be doomed from the start.
Or, you know, I’m just reading instead
Because that is something I prefer over TV. And I will go ‘one more chapter before I get some work done’. Then shortly after it is dawn and the book is done.
I fell down the stairs
Again? I damn well better not. That hurt my butt bone for months.
I got too inspired
As in I accidentally got drunk and can’t form an actual sentence. Now, this doesn’t happen often but can happen easily since I rarely drink. Four beers in and I am ready to party like its 1995 but have problems with the actual speaking and moving part.
Mostly, though, when I am not writing I am editing or marketing.
The Wyrd 