31 Day Writing Challenge Day 30: “Your remaining goals for 2013”
In January I got the bright idea to write a book. Or, the terrible idea. I really can’t decide.
I almost feel like a sell-out for even writing a blog post about writing a book. I should just go and finish the damn book. Don’t talk about it; be about it–to borrow from the most trite expression known to African-American mankind. But, I am supposed to document my remaining goals for the rest of this year and finishing a draft of the book is far and away the most important goal.
Every writer dreams of writing at least one book. Don’t you dare let any of them tell you any different. We’re all these self-indulgent individuals whose eyes light up at the prospect of one day holding some form of our gritty thoughts glued together in a textblock.
I’ve been shoveling shit when it comes to my manuscript. I had a surge of creative energy back in April and I drafted a few chapters. I then shuffled my feet back and forth in May as I started a new romance. My dedicated 10 p.m. book writing hour transformed into phone conversation hour with my new romantic prospect. I decided attending BookExpo America in NYC in June would be just the boost I needed to get this baby started. I went to BookExpo America, came back, ended it with the guy and shoveled more shit. In July I wrote here and there. And, then in August I took up the writing challenge which has worn me out.
I need a book come-to-Jesus moment because that graph above is just a pathetic list of excuses.
Here’s the thing about books. EVERYONE WRITES THEM NOW. Melissa Gorga “wrote” one about her hot and happy marriage which is a testament to the fact that even an idiot can pen a book if it’s marketable. Semi-celebrities writing books is a pretty egregious insult to people who actually, well, write. And write well.
Nonetheless, my main goal for the remainder of the year is to finish the draft of the book and not drink excessive amounts of Chardonnay while doing it (but moderate amounts are fine.) I do not know what will happen when the draft is complete. I’m not some fancy pants with a book deal, although I’d probably fall out on the floor in a Holy Ghost shake if I did get one. Of course, I’m afraid it will never get published. I’m afraid I’ll go flat broke trying to self-publish. I’m afraid people won’t read it. Hell, I’m afraid people will read it. And, it’s sort of like Twenties Unscripted on steroids. It’s much easier to let my words roam wildly when the end result is not immediately clicking “publish.” Sarcasm and indecency run amuck in my current drafts with sentences like “Law school was my Plan B. But, this is my life, not a busted condom.” My parents think the f-bombs on my blog are bad. So, Mom and Dad, I apologize in advance for this not-yet-published book. I owe you some of the profit?
Every blogger thinks they have a book in them. Some do. Many don’t. I’m not aiming to replicate my blog which is what a lot of bloggers mistakenly do. You can read that for free; that’s why I have archives. Instead, I’m aiming to give you the stories behind my daily 500-word cryptic posts and provide people with the backdrop of the “hims” and “yous” whom I never truly identify. Bigger. Badder. Badass.
If I ever sit down and write the damn thing.
P.S. I also hope to spend the remainder of the year staying happy, working on my spoken word, ensuring my cat doesn’t gain gross amounts of weight from all the fried chicken bits I feed her, keeping my day job, not getting too tripped up on guys, or at least getting tripped up enough to get some good blog posts out of them.