My lifelong goal has always been
To be a novelist.
Yet I’ve not written any words -
A few keystrokes at best.
In fact, all I ever produce is
A blank page and plenty excuses.
A no-work ethic just reduces
My goal to nothingness.
But today I swear won’t be the same
Because I have decided
To commit my whole day to this book.
I’ll just sit down and write it.
At my laptop. Now late morning.
Stare at blank page. White adorning.
Sudden pop-up gives me warning -
New e-mail! I’m excited!
It’s from my boss. Got to reply.
Should only take a minute.
I’ve got all day to write this book.
Just about to begin it.
Reply is done, but there are more
E-mails I’ve not read from before.
I’ll look at this one and explore
The link I clicked within it.
The link leads to an article
Which then leads to another.
Next thing I know: Three hours pass.
My novel’s being smothered
By distractions. Got to stop.
Back to blank page. At the top.
Have a thought, but then it’s dropped –
A phone call from my mother.
Normally I wouldn’t talk;
Her chats aren’t enthralling.
But I owe her. It’s been a while.
I swear that I’m not stalling.
Pick up the phone and we catch up.
Hours pass, then I see what
The time is now. I have to cut
Her off with “Thanks for calling!”
It’s evening and I see the lack
Of progress that I’m getting.
I leave my room entirely –
No phone or internetting.
I sit down in the living room.
Gaze at my notepad. Eyes of gloom.
My novel’s in a state of doom:
No characters or setting.
I write what comes to me: “It was
A cold and dreary day.”
I read aloud, then scratch it out.
Too corny and cliché.
I throw the notepad on the table.
Hits the remote, which then is able
To activate my TV’s cable
And I can’t turn away
Because “The Price is Right” is on.
Bob’s not still hosting, is he?
Must be a re-run. I don’t care.
This book’s getting me dizzy.
Time flies by. I’m in the midst
Of falling asleep. Can’t resist.
So much for being a novelist.
My life is just too busy.
