I have to paint myself into corners so I can write. Put up little post-its to remind me of the why’s and if’s. And numbers, oh, I need those numbers: countdown timers, especially, to herald the impending doomsday.
Strange how I need to strike the fire and brimstone into me so I can write. Dorothy Parker once said that she hates to write, but loves having written. What’s my excuse?
First step first, and I’m doing it this instant: I’m turning off the TV. Just finished off Castle, Medium, and now viewing the first few minutes of the millionth iteration of Law and Order. I have not grown the wiser from watching these shows. Dear Remote, the most important part of you is the part that turns the TV off. Goodbye.
And picking up Junot Diaz’s The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao.