Just Right or Just Write?

In which I stick a fork in my eye

Welcome to the first post in a new section of my publication — Freeform! This is a place for pure experimentation and expression. It’s basically a laser beam into my thought process. Don’t worry, this won’t replace any of my fiction content. It’s purely an add on.

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I have a bad habit of just righting things.

That is, avoiding doing them until the conditions are just right.

Oh, this week's a little busy.

I'll start next week.

Oh, I didn't sleep too well.

I don't really have the energy to start something today.

Oh, well.

My in-laws are coming for a visit.

That'll be draining.

Or I didn't have enough coffee or I don't really have a good place to work right now or my cat’s being too annoying or I don’t feel inspired or it’s too hot or too cold or the kitchen needs cleaning or it’s too late in the day or I should really go for a run first to get out all these heebie-jeebies or what if I write something bad and I have to rewrite it later I might as just wait until later and write it good then.

Sound familiar?

I use the imperfectness of my conditions to avoid working, which is just a sneaky form of perfectionism.

That's why, for example, I didn't really want to write this post — because it's different.

It's different from what I usually do, which is fiction.

And fiction that — whether it shows or not — I spend a great deal of time crafting so that it comes across the way I intend.

And this is purposefully different.

First of all, it's not fiction.

At least not purely fiction. I'm not sure if it's non-fiction. Maybe it's philosophy?

Right now it's rambling.

But what it's intended to be is extemporaneous. A first draft, light typographical editing — done.

An experiment in freeform, in getting my thoughts down on paper because I have a lot of them.

And an exposure, in sharing my thoughts without the editing, without the fiction world to provide a veneer of plausible deniability about what I'm actually thinking and what I'm actually feeling.

In short, this is practice in jabbing myself in the eye with a fork.

I don't like it.

But unfortunately, my avocation and vocation calls for getting jabbed in the eye with a fork from time to time.

And I might as well get good at it, rather than have it be something I'm avoiding.

In fact, I really need to practice it.

Because of everything I said above.

This is meant to be imperfect.

This is meant to be uncomfortable.

This is meant to get me out of the habit of waiting for things to be just right and getting me into the habit of just write, even if it's not perfect, even if the conditions for writing aren't great, even if I don't have any ideas, even if I think my ideas aren't particularly original, even if some sweaty bean bag person in a dim crevasse of the internet casts me as the antagonist in their personal tragicomedy.

In fact, the best possible outcome is for me to experience everything I’ve been fearing, all the imaginary menace that projects the forcefield of avoidance against my goals and ambitions.

I don’t want to do it.

But I do.

I want the fork in the eye.

I want to get good at taking a fork in the eye.

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