Tortured Artist or Ecstatic Novelist?

Today my novel-writing course begins. I’m mostly excited -- but partly apprehensive, because the amount of work I have ahead of me is a little bit daunting.

So I’ve been procrastinating. For example, I just changed my outgoing message on the voicemail I had at my former employer to direct callers to the switchboard. Shouldn’t they have disconnected my old number by now? They even still have me listed on their web site as the business contact. I find their lack of organization utterly astounding, especially considering how my former boss confuses herself with someone who is actually competent.

See? Procrastinating! Who the hell cares that she would rather send people to my dead-end email and voicemail than to stand up and take a little responsibility for the work that needs to be done. See?? See?!?! I’m doing it again!

Okay – back to the book-writing business. So another thing that has me nervous is that my life is finally pretty-much drama free. To write a book that’s of any interest, do I have to invent some drama to put on the page? I have this fear that it will be difficult to kick up emotions, even through a character, without having some sort of impact on my personal emotional state. Am I going to become a dramatic writer, slaving over a typewriter as I weep into my vodka? Sounds kind of miserable.

I’m hoping to be more like a humor-writing giggler, sipping my cabernet instead. The only pitfall would be the occasional guffaw, wherein I would spew red wine from my nose onto my computer monitor. Sounds painful, but less painful than drinking vodka and weeping.

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