Earlier today, my ten-year-old son had guitar practice. When I reminded him of the class, he grumbled and looked annoyed, yet he’s really enjoying learning the guitar. After every lesson, he proudly tells me what he learned, and is excited about the next lesson to come. So why does he grumble when it’s time to go?

I love to write. I’m about to publish my first novel. Before itCreeper from Mine Craft‘s published, however, I need to add a new chapter that I’ve decided will help flesh out a particular character just a little more and tie up a loose end I left untied in the original manuscript. I’ve been putting off penning this additional chapter for over a week. I enjoy writing, I love the characters I’ve created, and look forward to adding the first new chapter to my novel since it was originally written in 2004. Am I stuck for ideas? Nope. So why haven’t I done it? I think it’s for the same reason that my son grumbles about guitar class. There are too many distractions, too many opportunities to do something else. There’s always a Facebook status to check, or a super hero to level up in the MMO I play, City of Heroes. Or, in my son’s case, there’s always a new video to watch about Mine Craft.

And so, instead of jumping right into that chapter, I decided to blog about the whole “putting off” thing. Oops! I guess that’s just another way of procrastinating, isn’t it? So if distractions abound, and they do, what is the solution? Swear off Facebook for a week? Cancel cable television? I’m not sure. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go play a few Facebook games and give myself time to think about it.

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3 Responses

  1. I’ve been addicted to games since I was four. When I became a member of Facebook, I was exposed to the all too accessible world of Facebook games. I played the popular ones – Mafia Wars, Cityville, and Farmville – clicking away any free minute to level up. I would spend hours on the games. I finally realized that the games at consumed me. I went cold turkey and stop playing them all. I had free time again. No guilt feeling that I didn’t help my Mafia brothers out, no remorse that I didn’t send a golden egg to a fellow farmer; nothing but freedom to read a book, play golf, or just take a walk.

    Then Netflix posts old TV series and I’m up watching every episode of all the BBC shows we don’t get in the states. Good thing I’m an insomniac.

  2. FYI, Zoom, I didn’t delete the links you included in your message. I approved the message as it was but they posted the links went poof. Not sure why, something new for me to investigate!

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From Joe's writing

He reached beneath the tattered and torn seat and pulled out a leather sheath. It was his Samurai sword, his weapon of choice, next to the Bible, of course. He’d found the blade at a flea market in Iowa and it had sung to him, wanting to be part of his crusade. Two-hundred dollars was a small price to pay for such a weapon, and he was sure that the Lord had intervened on his behalf when the vendor had agreed to let him have it for a hundred and fifty.

— Threads, Chapter 21