The most difficult aspect of writing, for me, has always been the self-discipline required to write every day, no matter what. I simply don’t have any. (Not just for writing, either, but that’s a whole other post!)
There are a number of legitimate reasons excuses I could put forward to explain why it’s so difficult to find the time to write on a regular basis, not the least of which are family and work obligations as well as my ruthless internal editor, but even if I won the lottery tomorrow and didn’t ever have to work again, I would still probably lack the self-discipline to stick to a regular routine of writing. (Blogging doesn’t count.) I envy those people who can wake up early in the morning to get a couple of hours of writing done before they start their day, but that’s not an option for me as my weekdays start at 6am without any writing, and staying up late comes with its own obstacles, not the least of which is sleep deprivation doesn’t make for very good writing.
I especially envy the old me who used to crank out at least one new poem each week, slam it at the Nuyorican on a Wednesday night (or later, read it every Monday at 13), and then move right on the next one, rarely looking back. Most of those poems weren’t very good, but the gears were always turning and I’d eventually revisit a few and edit them into something good whenever I hit a dry patch. Most of that writing was done at Botanica, a couple of nights each week after work, usually before the Nuyorican on Wednesdays and Fridays.
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