And now you, the world, knows my problem with blogs. How I want to have a hundred of them, all updating on a regular basis with adventures and how-to’s and beautiful photographs. And I plan and scheme and design and launch and – – –
Followthrough is one of my difficulties. It is, in fact, my main difficulty.
I am, in every sense but the cinematic, a movie producer. I have ideas. I have vision. But what I require is a team to give direction to. Because when it comes down to it, I could learn all the details, yes, but who has time when there is so much visioning to do?
I have in my metaphorical back pocket a dozen business ideas that I know would work because they, well, just would. Because I’ve thought of the displays and the soundtrack and the email marketing and the color palette. I have three magazines waiting for their ravenous niche markets. I have several imprints, a handful of bakeries (including Flour Power, a gluten-free bakery), and a university all planned out. (Yes, a university. Where you could get, for example, a Masters in Light, having studied everything from candle-making to nuclear power.)
I want to write several research books that will be wildly popular, on Roman Engineering: How the Romans Created the First Industrial Civilization Without the Number Zero, and Blood and Booze: A History of Our Love Affair with Arena Sports. There are of course my graphic novels, my Newberry-eligible novels, and all my other novels. I’ve written PSAs and songs with no melody (and this great idea for a website where you submit original lyrics and bands across the world put them to music for you and then you commission the one you like best!).
There’s the backyard that will have a pond with an island, and on that island an old claw-footed bathtub filled with cushions to read in.
I have ideas. I have enthusiasm. I have vision.
I also have a full-time job that requires me to stare at a screen all day, a two-hour round-trip commute, and an unfathomable need for 10-12 hours of sleep a night. This gives me very little time or desire to stare at a screen in the evenings or on the weekends, and I scramble to do things like wash my laundry, feed myself, and clean the gutters (which, evidently, is not the landlord’s responsibility).
But the job is no excuse. The chores are no excuse. I went several years without a full-time job. Did I accomplish any follow-through with my vision-eering? Nope. I’m forced to think it’s me.
Anyhoo, I just wanted to share with you, o world, that I am thinking about you, and I keep meaning to write.
Perhaps I should just pick up the phone and call.