Inside the Writer's Cave

Today I'm in the writer's cave.  It's 90 degrees out in the Valley.  I have Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations on in the background (currently on pause while I blog).  Here's a list of the day's events so far.

7:47 AM: Wake Up
8:02 AM: Brush Teeth
9:55 AM: Have oatmeal for breakfast
10 AM: Start watching NO RESERVATIONS
10:30 AM: Try to write
11:22 AM: Take a shower to wake up
11:39 AM: Start writing new blog entry

These are the sad days of a writer's life.  It's beautiful outside.  I"m actually hoping my friends return my earlier text and tell me to come over for pool time so I can continue my pattern of avoidance and procrastination.  I started the week slow, but by Friday I had 36 pages of my pilot rewrite done.

For the past two days I have been staring at the computer.  I have been to the movies.  I have been to see my Mom and to a friend's memorial service.  I came home yesterday and made some food.  I watched some TV and I went to bed.  Then I woke up this morning hoping the day would be a bit different.  No such luck. 

So I'm writing this blog entry as a way to expose my sorry existence as a writer.  The loneliness.  The desperate need for inspiration.  I know that once I leave the house for the day (if I do), then my mojo will be gone.  At least that's what I think.

I have three more acts for finsih.  Granted, they are small acts.  Most likely around 24 pages of material.  The problem is that new ideas are already floating around.  It's hard to write what you know you have to finish and what you've outlined when the new ideas start making their way into your consciousness.

When people read your work and tell you how much they liked it...this is what goes into it.  It's boring and it's torture.  Why am I doing this when I could be masturbating or drinking?