Procrastinate later.

One of my heroines of the 80s (or what it 90s?) was Susan Powter, weight-loss champion.  I loved her and her “Stop the madness!” campaign.  Of course, I have not owned a television since 1986 – and that one had a 2″ screen – so I probably missed many obnoxious presentations.  But her basic messages seemed simple and fundamental.  Like Michael Pollan now: “Eat food.  Not too much.  Mostly plants.”  Powter said “Get moving.  Just get started.  Moving is better than sitting there.”

Even her fitness guides were realistic- in her book, there were two models for every demonstration of an exercise: one trim and athletic, one extremely obese, as Powter herself had become at her most unhealthy.  The point was clear – you don’t have to be an expert to get started, and starting is in itself a bigger step than any of the subsequent steps will be.  Even if you have to do it over and over.  Start.  Even if you stop, start again.  If you don’t stop, of course, you can keep going.

This obviously nails me where I write.  The wonderful blog posting I listed attached to this blog, about 25 Things Writers Should Stop Doing, talked about the problem of writing what you don’t need to be writing to avoid writing what you should be writing.

Here is the temptation for me with what I’m doing at this exact moment.  But I’m not going to back entirely down.  I should be: writing a children’s story; writing about singing; writing other fiction; correcting parts of a composition; creating a new composition; or at least, knitting a particular project for which someone is waiting.  (Let’s not even get into household management.)

But I am instead going to put together today’s entry.  I am more glad than ever that I gave myself an initial framework of 500 words.  Even if I am avoiding other more deeply unsettling enterprises I can only hide for another 190 words or so.  Then I’ll need to find another excuse.

Meanwhile I am doggedly hopeful that this is at least an excuse that is building the habit of writing, and of writing while people in my house walk by and talk to me, or demand some other kind of attention.  If Elizabeth Gaskell could write Wives and Daughters from the center of the house (a much more administrative and disruptive atmosphere even than Jane Austen’s house), then surely I can learn to Be A Writing Person without having to hide myself away.

The dirty secret here is that I crave seclusion “in order to create” but when I do seclude myself, I am undisciplined and slack.  So, one of the challenges ahead is to learn to find the nerve to do at least some creative work out in the open.  Again, the point is to become that Writing Person, because the bulk of the transformation is merely building up a habit, not establishing some deeper principle nor even more confidence.

As Powter says, “Just try the carrot instead of the doughnut.”