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Fear Factor
By Tara Lynn Johnson
I’m surprised I get any writing done at all. Despite the fact that I’ve created
a writing “haven,” a nook in my office meant to foster creativity and endless
reams of brilliant copy, procrastination calls my name… frequently. And,
insanely, I answer.
It taunts me on my computer screen. In the upper right hand corner of my
computer screen, that Saturn-esque “e” begs to be clicked. “I know you want to.
Ignore Word. Don’t write right now. Click me.” And I cave. Well, I’m a writer so
I have to surf the Internet for ideas and possible prospects, right? With the
best of intentions, I surf from site to site. Before too long, though, I’m
reading entertainment websites and checking my e-mail for the millionth time. I
did send some e-queries, so that’s justified. Then I remember-- I just sent them
yesterday. Even with my fabulous prose, it’s unlikely I’d get a response that
quickly. Besides, “procrastinator@ip.com” isn’t my work e-mail, and yet I check
it obsessively, along with the other five personal addresses I use.
Procrastination also barks and meows loudly in the living room and I can’t write
with that kind of noise going on. I walk out to find Doggie and Kitty begging to
be petted. “Pay attention to me,” Doggie says and looks at me with sad puppy
eyes. Ten minutes, that’s all I have to spare, I think as I sit down on the
floor to pet him. Kitty wanders over and ten turns into 20. While I’m here, I
might as well pop the TV on and check the headlines. Being a writer, I have to
stay informed… right?
A few hours later, procrastination needs food apparently, because it calls me
from the kitchen. Working from home affords me the opportunity to be a domestic
goddess in between writing projects. Meatballs must be rolled and spaghetti must
be cooked, and as long as I’m in the kitchen, I might as well clean the counters
and put the dishes away from the drain board. One less job to keep me from my
writing later, right?
I’m all set to head back to the office when the desserts call out. A little
sugar is bound to help my muse along, though, so I make a big bowl of ice cream.
After I plop down on the sofa, I scout out the magazines on the table. While
nibbling spoonfuls of chocolate, I peruse interesting articles, columns on
relationships, features on the latest 80’s flashback item… “Hey, I could have
written that,” I think to myself.
And then it dawns on me. That’s what I’m supposed to be doing.
Back to the office.
I decide to put on a little mood music and get back to work. No ifs, ands or
buts, I think. I push play on slot five and Avril Lavigne blasts out the
speakers. She’s my musical guilty pleasure this year and, with those rocking
guitars, I’m inspired to perform a mini-concert complete with off-key singing,
rhythm-less dancing, and the occasional head thrash. Besides, creative people
inspire each other, right?
I finally sit down at the computer, which waited and waited, longing to have its
keys stroked. But there were things that needed to be done, right?
Wrong. Who am I kidding? I’m putting off writing and, frankly, I’m exhausted.
Procrastination is tiring, as is its close friend and root cause: fear. But the
only thing writers have to fear is, well, fear itself, thank you President
Franklin D. Roosevelt.
What if nothing comes out? What if I don’t have anything to say? What if….
And that’s when I remind myself: I am a writer, and those are the challenges of
the profession I love.
Maybe today I’ll only write 500 words, but I will have written something. I
might get only one query done well, but it’s one more than yesterday. I might
not be able to craft a phrase exactly as I want it, but something is better than
nothing, and tomorrow, I might be able to make it perfect.
So from now on, I tell myself, I’ll work on writing more than not. The only
thing I’ll procrastinate about is procrastination. After all, there’s always
tomorrow.
Tara Lynn Johnson is a writer living in Delaware. Today, she wrote one
column, one query, and a few fillers. She’s still searching for the cure for
procrastination which will make her a zillionaire. If she finds it, she’ll let
you know. Her work has appeared in The Philadelphia Inquirer, and regional
newspapers and magazines in Pennsylvania and Delaware. Visit her at
www.taralynnjohnson.com.
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