Today I discovered another roadblock I’ll have to get over if I’m going to finish the job. My boyfriend. Really, right now, the lack of my boyfriend. He went on vacation with his parents on Monday and won’t be back until the end of the month. I thought that this would actually be really helpful.

This summer, our relationship sort of went on turbo speed — we spend a ton of time together, staying together pretty much every night. There were a few tough conversations in there (it’s never easy to grow old when you’re 21), but ultimately it was the best summer of my life and solidified a lot for me. I was devastated when he left on Monday morning, and I refused to walk him to the bus because I knew I would start crying, and nobody wants to cry in public (I had already shed enough tears the night before, the day before, the morning of…).

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I meant to do some writing, or at least maybe some outlining or something, on the three and a half hour train ride to visit the ‘rents for a few days. But I unfortunately stumbled upon my collection of Sex and the City episodes on my computer, and watched way too many of them to even hope to be productive with the remainder of my time. And by the time I reached the familiar smell of the house I grew up in, I was exhausted and had no interest in picking up my laptop. But there was a tinge of guilt in my lack of commitment to my project, so I decided to at least write about that here. I’ll try again tomorrow.

I read this article in The Economist the other day (except I read it in the print edition, you Internet scum killing the print journalism industry!) and it made me wonder whether I need something seriously wrong with me in order to be truly creative. Not that I hope that I get epilepsy or anything, I just think it’s interesting that so many crazy famous writers have had serious medical issues — depression counts. I have flat feet and really terrible eyesight. And I mean that sucks — I can’t become a pilot, which has always been my lifelong dream. Besides writing a book, of course.

I’m starting this blog because I am going to write a book. I’m going to finish a book. I’m going to get that book published.

But I have no freakin’ clue how to do that.

I know I love writing. Sometimes I think I’m pretty damn good at it. And once in a while, I think that I have what it takes to write a great novel.

Once in a while, I think I can do it.

But, again, I have no goddamn idea how to go about this. The only thing I know is that I just need to keep writing. So I made this blog. And every day, I am going to get my ass in a chair and write. I’ll write something here, and I’ll try to write something for my book. And when I can’t write something for my book, I’ll write something else for here. The point is that I keep my ass in a chair and keep writing. And maybe, just maybe… I’ll get that damn book out of it.