i watched soccer this morning. the day is cloudy and grey. chris and sandy get back this week. it’s time to get some shit done. i need one thing every day that must happen. something, hopefully tied to a schedule. i need a reason to write now because i know i can’t write later. because right now, my problem is that i can write later. i can always write later. i still have 2k of this story, but i’m not freaking out because it’s only the 11th. i can write 6k in time to send it in. but that’s not helping me. i’m only training myself to stretch time out and hit deadlines at the last minute. when i should be teaching myself to write faster so i can write more. if i didn’t have to spend two whole weeks to write an 8k story, i could be farther along on revisions. i could be finishing the olympics story for next month and writing the thing for the next deadline. i could be stacking up short stories so i can spend my time working on the next long thing.

ever since i sold the hockey story, i’ve been slacking. i’ve decided that this is enough success for one year. but it’s not. i won’t know for a few more weeks what exactly i made on my first novella, but it’s not even going to be enough to pay the rent. if i had to pay the rent. which, thank god, i don’t right now. but this is the goal. write more stories to make more money to write more stories.

i also need to write more so i have something to write about on the blog. i haven’t posted for a few days. i need something to say, but i haven’t done any work lately. so i don’t know what i should talk about. i don’t want to talk about hockey. not this year. i don’t even want to talk about cycling. i haven’t written anything for that blog in months now. but this is how my brain works. at the moment, my brain is a fiction brain. it’s also why i can’t get myself together to write something for the magazine. i can’t wrap my head around the story i want to tell. i should be trying harder, but the truth is, i don’t think i’m a non-fiction writer. at least not this year. this year, it’s all about the made-up stories.

maybe that’s a post right there. last year, i wrote a lot. a wrote a lot about hockey and my city and cycling and writing and coming home after being away. my blog’s tagline is i write fiction and effusive blog posts. last year, i wrote effusive blog posts. this year, my brain is all about fiction.

i wish i could be one of those people who cares about many things at once, but i’m just not. right now, my brain is all about writing fiction. it’s hard enough to keep up with feeding and dressing myself while i write, let alone going outside and talking with people. i haven’t been able to settle in with a book in weeks. i haven’t been able to write much more than a tweet or a caption, let alone one of my off-the-cuff blog post essays. that’s where all my words went last year. this year, a switch flipped and now i don’t know how to write anything which isn’t fiction.