Slaying the Beast

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I am ruthless.

About once a year I say to myself, “Lara, it’s about time you started a blog.” After being struck by this thunderbolt of (probably) divine inspiration, I then proceed to bang out a long “first post” filled with residual teenage angst. I commit wholeheartedly to it, saying I will update it once a week without fail, and after about two weeks, I promptly forget about the whole project. A year later, I resurrect the post on a whim, read it, and immediately stuff it right back into its digital coffin where it belongs. “Well, that was embarrassing,” I think to myself, knowing full well that I’m destined to repeat the whole process in roughly a year.

And sure enough, here I am. Trying again. But this time I’m going to commit, goddamnit! There’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to do this, after all, other people form productive habits and stick to them all the time. Take my friend X, for example. Jesus Belinda Christ, is X productive! When X makes a commitment, you can bet she’ll follow through. Why shouldn’t I do the same?

Besides, It’s not as if I’ve never committed to anything. I wrote 90 thousand words of a novel a few months ago. Sure it’s only a first draft, and an incomplete one at that, but for the sake of my own sanity I’m letting it breathe for a while, before I return to it with a red pen and murderous intentions. And I’ve formed other good habits, too. Last year in Scotland I was going to the gym four times a week, and actually enjoying it. So I’m not a lost cause, you see. It’s a question of motivation, and that can only come from within. So I’m kicking myself in the ass. Metaphorically of course. I’m not that flexible.

I’m twenty-seven. I’ve completed my Masters degree in Creative Writing from a prestigious Scottish university. I’m done more than my fair share of traveling, have multiple creative interests including writing (duh…) and improv. But I’m underemployed. Temping, banging out freelance work and making less money than a kid in a sweatshop, and feeling thoroughly dissatisfied.

I want to find my purpose, and ultimately to be able to live off of that purpose. In short, I’m one in a million. I’m an eternal rough draft, and I know I’m not alone in this. We’re all rough drafts. So I’m going to keep working on this, and I’m going to keep working on myself. I’m the only thing standing in my way, and as we all know, that’s physically impossible. Which means all my obstacles are imaginary. Thank you, logic.

The struggle is real, folks. Creative inertia is a hairy beast, but I intend to slay it with a massive shiny sword. So stand aside, because things are about to get messy.

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