Earlier this week I put together my writing-based to-do list that covers all the stuff I’d like to achieve between now and the end of February. It basically consists of a novel draft, an exegesis draft, a novella draft, and a dozen stories that either need to be written or re-written. It’s the kind of workload that seems reasonable inside my head, but experience says that real life will not let it run as smoothly as I expect. Especially since the work breakdown says I should have a story draft done by this Sunday, as well as a small chunk of novel and a 3500 word outline for the exegesis. My brain is refusing to do any of it and demanding to watch Predator 2 instead (No, I don’t know why Predator 2 has become the topic of fixation, but apparently my subconscious is convinced it’s a reasonable facsimile for work).
I’m not panicking about this, which is my usual modus operandi. For starters, I’m not going to give into the Predator fixation, and I can outlast my subconscious in this kind of stuff. I figure sometime, probably in a week or two, it’ll get on board with this list of stuff and get working on it and everything will be hunky-dory until the next complete lapse of writerly discipline and self-doubt hits in March.
