As my cats from G.I. Joe were fond of saying, “Knowing is half the battle.” So here is what I know:
- I’m not going to the gym. It simply is not in my nature. Even when I was a player I dreaded the idea of the morning and evening workouts. I let my gym memberships lapse all over the country. I’ve been to dozens of hotels and only ever glimpsed the workout room. The last time I was in a gym was at my partner’s apartment. They have a small gym and I went down to use it for a bit and found that I watched more TV than worked out. That was two years ago. I’ve cooked up a dozen home workout routines since then with the aim of getting some HIIT in for myself and my kids. When I talk about being on the verge of something I’m talking about that desire right there–knowing that I want to do these things and being right on the edge of trying but not actually doing it. The gym, I know, is not for me. The Tabata/HIIT stuff in-house is far more likely but still just a little bit off from what I actually will do.
- I’m not going to write a serious novel until I sit down and write it. Surface level this seems like an exercise in the obvious. Still it bears stating. Writing is a butt in chair process. I’m not someone who can jump into a story and it just flows out of me instantly. I need to dive deep into that ether of creation and really drown in that before I can transmit it back to the real world. When I visualize writing I see it like the formation of planets–worlds spinning into existence and civilizations sprouting from nothing until, certainly, a character arrives and it is time to share their tale. This is a process that takes time.
- I cannot live in this space indefinitely. This is about headspace, physical space, workspace, and even playspace. All of it feels overcooked, like I’ve been here too long and should’ve moved on years ago. Yet I am still here and things are starting to spin apart.