verb tr.: To convince someone not to do something.

The easiest thing in the world to do is nothing. As a writer, I have no deadlines. Not that many that really matter, that is. Most of my deadlines, projects, work is made up by me, set by me, edited and published by me. I can do it if I want. It’s so easy to tell myself not to. To make up excuses in my head about why I don’t have to work on this book, about why I shouldn’t bother writing that blog post, about why no one is reading anyway, so why are you doing the work. I’m doing the work for me. If the rest of the world wants to read it, too, that’s gravy. I can’t worry too much about the rest of the world. It’s hard enough to keep myself on track.

I started this word project two days ago, and already I’ve missed writing on a day. “Dissuade” was yesterday’s word, and I wrote it down, I thought about how it would make a great essay about the beginning of a project, and then I didn’t write it. “I’ll get to it later.” There is never a later when it comes to art. There is only now. If I don’t do something now, I will do it never. And I don’t want to live like that anymore. I want to make more things with the time I have. I’m proud of what I’ve done so far. But I know I can do more. I know I have so much time. I know I have so much to share, but I balk when it comes time to share it. That’s too much. It’s too close. Putting my words out there for you to read is like taking my clothes off for you to see. No. It’s like taking my skin off for you to see everything that lives inside of me. I don’t have enough experience doing that.