Confessions (#16)

Right now I am laughing. I managed to get this post done by 5 pm on a Sunday night, which is on the earlier side for me. If you read through to the end, you will understand why I think this is funny.

This is yet another weekly post on a blog I have managed to maintain for one-and-a-half years. Yes, I missed a week or two, here and there. But at one time I was putting up three posts a week. 

I have to believe each step is leading up to somewhere. Though, skipping a few would not be so bad, right? Maybe even taking the elevator a few times?

Sigh. Step by step, one flight of stairs at a time it is...

(I went searching for images of the "Nine Muses"-- I previously thought that there were just three. The classical versions were disappointing, and I could not find any modern versions. However, through this process, I did discover the artist John Everett Millais. Two of his paintings struck me. I could not decide which one to use. So, I am sharing both. Some day I will produce my own "Nine Muses", either in the form of a story, or a series of drawings. Perhaps both. )

 
Since starting my blog, five or six years ago, I had this one recurring writing goal. In the months running up to Christmas, I would watch all the Christmas Carol movies I could. Then reflect on my reactions to each one. Finally, I would write series of reviews, and post them during the week before Christmas Day.

I went as far as procuring a list of movie adaptations for that classic Dickens' novel, purchasing three or four early versions, and watching them. However, that was the extent of my progress with that goal. There was no motivation to take it any further.

Sometime last year, just as I began working on the video taping and editing of the Nutcracker for my daughters' dance studio, I had another writing goal. As a homage to the people  I met and the experiences I endured over the prior five years as a stage manager, I would write a short story. It would be from the point of view of the stage manager during a single performance, his final one. It would have been funny, touching, and therapeutic. An opportunity for me to find closure for an event that has defined, for me, a good deal of the last few years. 

Beyond several rounds of daydreaming, in which I developed a few elements of plot, I have done nothing else. Not even an outline, or a working title. Just a bunch of fleeting mental images.

Since about January of this year, I have focused on reading more books. With that desire, another writing goal emerged. Following each book I consumed, I would write a reflection. Not so much a review, which I think is a bit formal, and requires specialized knowledge. But a post sharing my initial reactions to the book, and any questions or insights I managed to gather. Nothing deep and carefully researched.  But something that would inspire me to write more, and reinforce my reading habit.

While I have managed to read more books these past nine months, than in prior years, no single review has emerged. Not even a list of what I have read. While I may have referenced the title one or two works, nothing more has been written. 

Another writing opportunity wasted.

None of this has anything to do with the pursuit of perfection. Procrastination is a habit, and most of the time, a debilitating one. Rarely it pays off. More often it sucks.  

At the very least, it give me something to write about.