Getting It Done

Like clockwork, every Sunday night, I become outraged for the time I've wasted. The future I want is pushed back another week. Monday, I sulk, but by Tuesday morning I'm resolved to give my best effort on the next weekend. The cycle begins again.

I see the pattern and I recognize the need to alter course, but my will is spent by the time I edge up to my drafting table on Friday. The best I'm managing nowadays is sketching at the coffee table while I watch reruns of Firefly at 2am. Sometimes I have to ask myself "Do I really want to be a storyteller?", but on Sunday night, with a work day just under the horizon, I declare that I wouldn't want to be anything else.

Something must be done about this graphic novel, and soon, or else it's condemned to the scrapyard of older dreams. I made the mistake this weekend of sharing the idea with some friends. Clearly, it was a desparate grab for validation that pushes me one step closer to abandoning the whole project. So, I'm throwing it a life perserver by quickly scratching out a shot from the script.

It's rough, I know, and the 5 minutes I put into it is a pathetic contribution toward this weekend's goal. Nevertheless, here it is. Now I just need to follow this with a few hundred more.