Writing sucks sometimes.
I'm about 98% done with the editing of my book.
The last thing I have to do is rewrite the Section 10 introduction on calling people out on their racism.
I'm procrastinating. Instead of writing that intro piece, I'm writing on LinkedIn about how I'm not writing that intro piece.
It shouldn't be that hard. 1000 words at the most. I've already got the outline. I know what I want to say. I know that this new intro will be better than the old intro that I'm replacing.
I even put the time on my calendar from 2:00–4:00: "Write New Section 10 of Book."
I meet with my editor on Friday mornings. I told him (and myself) that I'd have it finished by this Friday so we could go over it and make tweaks.
Today is my best window to write it. I don't write well in the evenings. I write well in the early mornings, but my early mornings have been filled with other stuff.
This is my window. And I'm not opening it. The lock seems to be jammed. The air is getting stuffier. Pretty soon I might start sweating. And swearing.
Maybe I'll need to throw a rock through the window. Bust that shit to pieces. Get some fresh air. Step through all the jagged shards beating my chest with my fists.
In other words, I need to go for a walk. What I should have done half an hour ago.