In Which I Am the Worst Blogger Ever

Okay, okay, so that's an overstatement. But it's click-baity, right?

So, I probably owe you an explanation of why my resolution of blogging every week is already dying.

Oh, you didn't know about that resolution?

...hehe, well then, let's pretend it never existed. Which, of course, it didn't.

You see, I've realized that deadlines can be quite intrusive sometimes. The assignment looming over you that states "exam due in 24 hours!" can shake your nerves like an entire pot of strong coffee never could. (And for the girl who can't drink two cups of coffee in the morning without her handwriting going nuts, that's something.)

So, would you like to hear my solution? Yes?

Maybe if we forget they exist, all the deadlines will go away.

*poof* That was the sound of your brain exploding. Or of my problems disappearing. You choose.

This is what I tried when I was drafting my novel. Huge plot hole? No big deal. Little to no worldbuilding? I doubt anyone will notice.

Then I realized that seven out of seven alpha readers said my biggest need was worldbuilding, and my article's due today, and I haven't blogged in over two weeks, and, well...

I started to wonder if my plan wasn't actually working that well.

*poof* That was definitely your brain exploding. Or my problems un-disappearing. I'll let you choose again.

Maybe, just maybe, I haven't found the solution to the world's problems. Maybe I'm just a procrastinator.

*small gasp from the audience*

Sometimes, I remind myself of my two-year-old brother. When, after lunch, he is offered more bread, he'll scream his little head off like the world is ending because he does not want more bread, he wants eggs, and I know that very well.

Somehow, his pleas aren't the most heart-melting thing. And I'm not cooking up more eggs for him just because he says he wants them. So I exasperatedly *ahem* patiently explain that his two options are either getting more bread or being all done with lunchtime.

The tears end. He gets his hiccups under control and says in a small, whimpering voice, "More bread please." (Which sounds like "mo beh peeez" but you probably can't read that as well.) All of a sudden, he realizes that compared to the alternative, bread is great. Delicious, even.

What does this have to do with the issue in question?

The worldbuilding is my bread. Writing this blog post is my bread. Finishing the article today is whole-wheat, only-sometimes-tasty bread. The eggs of laziness and comfort seem so much tastier. (I don't like eggs very much, but it's all part of the analogy, so we'll leave that be.)

But I'm not given an egg-option. Either I do the task, or I'm an official procrastinator. I don't get my eggs and eat them too. (Or however that goes.)

So, my dear readers, my solution is to write this post. I am taking the bread. I am conquering procrastination.

And now, my dears, I am bidding you farewell.

Oh wait, no, I'm not. I want to hear from you. I want to know what you want to read. So click here if you have ten seconds to fill out a quick form!

Toodeloo, friends! ~Lily May