My writing gets steam-rolled by cleaning. I start out honest enough. I make a to-do list and suddenly EVERYTHING needs to be done. And not only does it need to be done, but it must be done during the time I’ve slotted to work on the novel. I took a 2-day workshop on the 7 Habits of Highly Effective People a few years ago, sponsored by my current employer, so I know I need to focus on getting the big rocks in, instead of all these endless pebbles.
Why, may I ask, does the bathroom floor matter right now? It’s been like that for weeks, what difference does it make if I let it go another day… another week?
When did pulling everything out from under my bed, so I can sort and organize what it is that’s down there, and then clean out all the dust bunnies and errant cat hair…. When did I agree to its importance level being more than working on the novel? I certainly don’t think it is, but my compulsive behavior to prioritize thus proves I believe it.
Dear readers, I have bored to the core of a mountainous procrastination writers block. Its not a writers block based on creative burn-out, no, this sort of block is more insidious. The great time-suck. I have found my demon.