It's been a little weird inside my head lately. I've had lots of time available, but not a lot has gotten done inside it. In that weird way that slacking does, it has made me tired and glumpy. I've had a little bit of freelance work, only a tiny little bit, and I've done a little bit of blog writing, only a tiny little bit, and it doesn't add up to much.
It's weird how ideas land, but I realized late last week that a good deal of my problem is simply not having a plan. I don't have any schematic for what to work on or any clear reason why I ought to, and it means I don't do much of anything. That's a simple enough fix, I'll make up a plan.
Apparently this is one of the things which is simple but not easy. I keep writing "do long-term planning" on my schedule, but I also keep more or less ignoring it. It's been several days, and no significant work in this direction has happened. I'm avoiding this.
Part of the deal is that I really don't know what to do. I keep saying I want to write for a living, but I don't know how to go about it. I don't know what kind of writing I want to do or who I need to say things for or what kinds of things people need or want to hear. I don't know the first actual thing about doing this thing for real. So ... what do I need to plan? Heck if I know.
Whether or not I know what I'm doing, I still need to work. Really, I need to produce something. I have to feel like I'm going forward, or I'm just going to get (more) crazy and anxious. That doesn't help anyone.
In lieu of knowing what I'm actually doing, I'm doing this. This right here, this blog post, this is what I'm doing. When in doubt, string some words together. Keep thinking. Keep talking to my notebook and banging on my keyboard, making words happen.
I confess I want to be clever and impressive; I want to say things that will make someone go "hm, I never thought of that before. What a smart idea which has just illuminated my whole life in a stunning and world-changing way. That Crispy is such a good writer."
Instead I'm going to be real, and say I have no idea what I'm doing. This is just a scrap of life in progress, and I am the farthest thing from a smart writer tonight. I don't know where this is heading, but I'm putting some words together. Tomorrow I'll assemble some more. I'll do the work at hand, and trust it will guide me toward the work to come.