Should You Stop Daydreaming?
I daydream instead of writing. It gets me in trouble, I don’t get a lot of writing done, but I do have a vivid imagination.
I could daydream all day. The problem is I lack focus. Does that make me just a daydreamer or a writer?
I can be obsessed with one thing all day. Like one day I became obsessed with us winning the lottery and I looked at which houses we would buy on Realtor.com. All day long I did this. I do that about once a month.
Then the obsession with an object that I just think I need. I researched it, looked at every single review, imagined it in my life, imagined it not in my life and how empty I felt.
I worried about how much it costs and rationalized that we can’t afford it so I shouldn’t buy it. Then I talked myself into buying it because I can use a credit card and really, that’s not money, that’s like winning the lottery, you can buy whatever you want.
Except for a house.
I waited for it to get here. I looked up the tracking number 20 times a day to see if my package had moved an inch.
I wondered if the thing I couldn’t live without is going to arrive in the morning so I can spend the whole day touching it or is it going to show up at night so I stay up into the early morning admiring it.
Then a week later it is balanced atop the pile of junk I just had to have.
I wish I could have that kind of obsession for writing. Maybe it comes with time. Like developing a daily writing habit, which I don’t have right now, but I’m working on.
A writing habit would give me the same gratification, once I get to the point that it gets easier, and to the equivalent of hitting the buy button.
Or I convince my self that that high and anticipation could be the same as publishing something or submitting it to a publication and waiting.
Except that buying something and building the anticipation is so much easier than thinking and writing and editing and submitting and possibly being rejected.
That quick fix, buying and obsessing over something, covers up the fact that my life is an utter mess right now. Thinking and writing do not cover up anything.
In fact, it brings out the monsters, shoves them in your face, and either scares the crap out of you or makes you run and hide.
I’d rather pretend I’m living in a G rated movie rather than an R rated Horror flick. Let me buy my things to throw in the trash heap in the corner instead of becoming that working writer I always wanted to be.
Writing is hard, even though non-writers don’t think so. Writing is not that hard, I can talk, so I can write.
Writing is a lot harder than buying something to give me some short term joy. But writing will give me long term joy.
Writing requires more effort, just a little more. And a little more. And a little more the next day.
You add up the little bit of effort every day. You get fewer charges on your credit card and more on the page. You are a writer with less debt and more moola.
That is a good feeling. You have accomplished something.
What have you accomplished by fantasizing about the house you are going to buy when you win 500 million dollars? I guess you will be prepared to make the offer on that house. When you win the 500 million dollars.
You have exercised your imaginative brain by thinking about winning that money that’s never gonna happen. Maybe that fantasizing and obsessing is your writing brain keeping fit while you take a long breather from your dream of becoming a writer.
When you become obsessed with not writing and make too many excuses and find yourself constantly pushing away that pull to write you should analyze what is really going on.
What are you covering for?
What is taking over so you don’t have to make the effort?
What can you do to make writing a priority again?
Think about it, do you want a room filled with stuff, from floor to ceiling? Or do you want a room filled with your writing achievements, your best selling books, and your next best ideas floating over your head, waiting for you to fill up the screen the following day?
Because you aren’t a hoarder.
You aren’t a millionaire.
You’re a writer, baby!