Nothing but non-action!?

I should be cleaning my apartment.

With only a quick glance I can see there's popcorn wedged under a bookshelf, garlic corn nuts scattered across the floor and a stack of clothes that's stares at me with judgmental folds that look (if you squint) like a disapproving mouth.

"We smell like a moldy dooooooonuts" they whisper.

I should be writing.

Why is it so hard? I have ideas! Really! I do! Put me in a corner, order me to make shit up, and I'll spout madness from my lips for hours on end.

Yet, if you give me a blank page all I will do is stare at it. Every few minutes I may raise an eyebrow. My forehead will wrinkle.

Does someone have a cure? Maybe if someone promised me some kind of candy at the end of the rainbow I'd be a word wizar! Is it my own inert sense of my mediocre writing skills that keep me from vomiting forth onto the page? I need some kind of drug that will completely obliterate this niggling "Shit! All shit!" feeling that drenches me every time a creative urge grips me. Maybe I'll read a good book instead...Yea...I'll get to it later...

Seven years later....

I'll get to it later.

I want to write a simple detective novel. I want to write a pulp dime store sci-fi novel. I want to write a blood strewn horror novel you can buy for a 1$ a pop at your local used bookstore. I want to write the great Canadian novel that will define a generation.

Is that so much to ask?

Maybe if I changed that WANT to WILL. Hmmmmmm.

At this point in my life, I've written more about my inability to write than anything else. It's much easier to type things when they deal with nothing but my own internal angst. Sure, it doesn't make very interesting reading (unless you're my clone) but it does me the feeling of accomplishing SOMETHING.

All those words are mine!

Can a man live off lazy writing style that involves asking himself questions and answering them with glib non-responses?

I doubt it.

Why should I prove you wrong? What's in it for me?

Maybe I need to figure that out. Obviously, my own creative self worth isn't enough. If it hasn't work yet, will it ever?

Maybe I should change out of my cheese covered T-SHIRT.