Madeleine Feels the Daily Pressure...

to post on the Mildred! I am letting down our dear reader--he told me so--and I am beginning to feel bad about myself. I can't manage to do this one simple thing...

I would feel less pressure if Agnes was/were posting something on here every so often, but she isn't. No pressure, Agnes! Really. I know you are busy with more important things, but I am eager and excited for you to come back and say something as soon as you can--a hello; a quick smoking update, i.e., I smoked last night, or even better, I did NOT smoke last night; a bit of something that you forgot to tell me on the phone or in an email or that could be shared with the devoted reader(s) of this blog (see my mention of the new sugar bowl of a few days ago); in short, anything that would fill up some space on this blog and give us all something new to read.

Plus you're such a good writer and I like the counterpoint. (Did I use that word correctly?)

Anyway, I started this entry TWO DAYS AGO with the intention of finishing it and posting it that night, then I added some things yesterday and was going to post it last night, but same old story--no Internet access, no B's MacBook Pro, work was very busy. I am going to try going to the nearby cafe in the mornings before work to get back to posting every day (if I ever did). Or I could quit my job and post every day; that would really be the best and happiest solution...

But going back to the first paragraph of this post... This is the same conversation that goes on inside my head every day of my life (that's a bit melodramatic, i know)--I need to write today; I need to write today; I still have a few hours left in the day to get some writing done today; I NEED TO WRITE TODAY!!!; I didn't write today!; why didn't I write today???; everybody else wrote today--even people with little children wrote today--what is wrong with me???; writers write every day! why don't I write every day? am I really a writer?

And on and on and on...

And going back to the paragraph before the last one--if I quit my job, would I write every day? I think not. I might feel more pressure to write and thus write less often.

I often have those romantic ideas (everybody has them, I guess)--quit my job and write, move someplace exotic and write, go into isolation and write--but I know none of those fantasy plans would work...

There's always some date in the future--after some life-altering event--when everything will change and I'll sudeenly be a real writer...

Anyhow, enough of that. And everyone wants to hear more about the dreaded paragraph, I'm sure. Did he go back to it? Did he change it? Is it really finished?

I can report, readers, that I have not changed the paragraph in the days since I finished it. I consider this a huge victory. I have read it many times and am very pleased with it. This is a different type of problem, though, that is also very familiar. I am fetishizing the paragraph! I read it and read it--out loud and to myself--instead of moving on and writing the next paragraph. In fact, by reading and re-reading it I begin to feel like I am actually writing--but of course I'm not actually writing. Is this clear? Now I feel like I have to stop writing this blog post and go write my story.

I plan on working on the next paragraph today. I don't think it's going to be as hard as the last paragraph. I can already see where I am going to run into problems (like the last paragraph) again later in the story. Perhaps that is why I am putting off moving on, etc. Obviously that is why...

Note the language I use in the last paragraph--"working on," "problems". Our dear reader would say that THIS is the problem. I treat my writing as if it is a chore, something to be DONE instead of something to be enjoyed. Right, dear reader? Agnes? Please comment on this. I will investigate this further some other time.

No writing last night--0r any night since Monday.