“Any one can do any amount of work, provided it isn’t the work he is supposed to be doing at that moment.”

– Robert Benchley

I came home from work today,  logged in here, and started this post.

That’s not true.

I came home from work today and I took a nap.

Then I logged in here and started this post.

I typed the title.

Then I decided I needed to go to the grocery store.

I came home, put the groceries away, and typed the above sentences.

Then I cooked dinner.

Then I ate dinner. Then I decided that I needed to do something productive, so, I turned off the television… and started to read. I just started The Shining because I never read it and my girlfriend recommended it since she just picked up Dr. Sleep, the sequel.

And then it was 11:00 and I had yet to do my post. I deal with this every day. Every day since deciding to write every day (and since running through the mental back log of things that I didn’t write in 2017) I have the specter of an unfinished post looming over me.

I love having written but writing scares me.

Procrastination, like a lot of things, is a response to fear. With regards to my writing, the fear is that I’ll have nothing to say or that I’ll write something boring or that I’ll repeat myself.

I believe it was in The Now Habit that I read* that we procrastinate to shrink the amount of time that we have to do something so that we can simultaneously create the excuse for producing something bad.

* I read books about procrastination which leads to understanding but not cessation of the practice.

I once took an online writing class and there was one group assignment. There were four people in the group and I remember that we all did second drafts of our parts, except for one guy. I emailed him about it and he said pretty matter of factly, I’ve already spent as much time on this as I’ve allotted. I was kind of blown away that he not only had time management skills like that but boundaries.

My worry whenever I start anything is that I’ll no idea how to start, either because nothing seems good enough or I’m completely out of my depth. Both feelings are paralyzing and I hate it, so, I procrastinate.

I’ve always been a procrastinator.

The first time I remember procrastinating, I believe it was an elementary school report about Juan Ponce de Leon, who was looking for the fountain of youth and “discovered” Florida. Another time, in the fifth grade, I remember crying in the Brighton Public Library as my mother and I looked for books for the report that was due the next day. In high school, I procrastinated all the time but I was smart enough to cram the night before*. In college I procrastinated all the time and I was not smart enough to cram the night before.

* There was one exception. There was a paper that I wrote for Mr. Turk’s AP English class about style that was written in a haze of ineptitude the night before that made Mr. Turk write in the margins of my paper, “Surely you jest, sir.” After that paper, I actually worked in that class and learned more than in any other class I ever took.

All I’ve really done is just learned my own habits and limits. I realize that I get my best work done at the end of the day when I seriously can’t leave until something gets done. Then I’m efficient. Or when I can’t go to sleep until I’ve finished writing.

My father always used to tell me, when I had a paper due, to just start writing. It’s always easier to edit something that you’ve written than it is to start from scratch. He was a smart man and completely correct and I rarely took that advice.

I love having writing and after I’m done with this I’ll have a moment or two of blissful relief since I’ve accomplished my daily goal. Then tomorrow I’ll wake up and do it all over again.