(Pro)crastination sounds like something in favour of crastination. I looked it up and couldn’t find such a word, I found lots of other interesting words however and clicked on other sites and…anyway, I’d better get on with the blog. (see what I did there?)
Just in case you are wondering about the word here is a definition:
Procrastination = the action of delaying or postponing something. And apparently, there is an old proverb which I think sums it up perfectly – Procrastination is the thief of time Edward Young – English Poet (1683-1765)
So many writers I know struggle with procrastination and spend their time on Twitter and/or Facebook. I have fallen victim to both these temptations and as I’m looking to move to Cornwall next year (hopefully), I add to these already addictive attractions, the property website – Rightmove.
What I would love to know is WHY???
Why do I and countless other writers waste precious time pootling about online, procrastinating for England, (or indeed any country in the world) instead of cracking on with the novel? I left teaching in May to live the dream of writing full-time and though poor as a church mouse, (why these rodents are singled out above sewer rats etc as a metaphor of poverty, I have no idea) I feel unbelievably lucky to be able to devote a huge chunk of my time to it.
I absolutely LOVE writing! It is not a chore, boring, doesn’t answer back, (well, not often), doesn’t send Ofsted Inspectors round to glare at me from a corner while rubbing it’s skeletal hands and sharpening a scythe, so WHY do I neglect it for at least two hours a day?(OK, three.)
When I say two or three hours, that’s not all at once…but in small chunks of frittered time. And when I say frittered, that implies trivial…it’s not ALL trivial. I have met some lovely people on Twitter and Facebook , and enjoy sharing writing tips and so forth, but I often tend to click here and there and end up thinking things like… ‘Hm, perhaps we should get that invaluable automatic cat cleaner.” Or, ‘Wow, my life would be complete if I had a purple loo brush with the sparkly stars on the handle.’
So… is procrastination part of the human psyche, some primeval instinct that makes us want to avoid the very thing we are supposed to be doing, pleasurable or not? Is it something restricted to writers? Have we all been brainwashed by some alien force to procrastinate so they can steal the creative time we’ve wasted and knit lovely twin-sets with it? (Yes…I know…that is how my mind works, sad really and I probably need help.) Or is it something else? What do you think?