Friday, April 25, 2008


With all the juggling between three days of lectures at AIM on direct marketing, brand valuations, predictive modeling and such, along with the usual project workloads (launching a new restaurant, consulting for internet companies, prepping for fall-holiday campaigns, generating leads and pitching to new clients), I am usually close to braindead, creatively, when I get home. Not in the sense that I cannot enjoy time with my lovely pregnant wife and "Love And Berry"-addicted daughter, I can and do, with sense of humor intact. But when everything quiets down and I have a moment to myself, all the discipline in the world delivers the smallest amount of words. My writing has bogged down.

It's easy to list rationalizations: fatigue, humidity, distractions, disengagement with subject matter. I put myself on a self-imposed story-a-day regimen - it worked for a couple of days, producing a couple of defensible stories, but when the demands of business spilled into my disciplined writing time (as a business owner, I have "homework"), I could not focus on short fiction, much more the novel.

I despise my turtle-pace. It's back to guerilla writing.



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