Lovely...and burbles

This weekend Amy K. is contacting the people she's considering for the Beckoning of Lovely team, and I am waiting less-than-patiently and less-than-hopefully. My inner critic keeps going "Well, of course she's not going to pick you. You're not cool/artsy/talented/real/awesome/creative/lovely enough!" Stupid inner critic. SARK talks about inviting your inner critics around for tea, but I would rather give them a firm kick in the nether-regions!

I did no writing today, as usual. Sometimes I wish I had one of those portable tape recorders so I could capture the ideas and words that dance through my head just at the least convenient moments. If I could do that I swear I'd have 50 projects on the go! As it is I have a solid half-dozen on my laptop (they sit there mocking me with their not-done-ness) and several more in my head. Most of the head-only projects require intensive research before I can even think about writing them. My current favourite is a study of dancers writing about dance, specifically ballet and modern. I've only read a handful of books for that one -not nearly enough. Someday, I promise myself, I'll have time.

"Someday" is so elusive, isn't it? In my current vision of "someday" I sit at a desk in a beautiful home office. No one disturbs me as I write, and I remain perfectly focused and confident as I churn out impeccably polished prose. In reality I scrape together the odd half-hour while the baby naps, and generally type standing up with the boy in the Moby Wrap. He tends to wake up just when I get inspired. And even if I did have an office and completely free chunks of time, chances are that I would spend most of them doing things like posting on message boards and building the province's largest ball of rubber bands. I've read enough writer's blogs to know that that's how it works . We never get to that place where every element is perfect because, even if all the outside factors lined up, chances are that we would suddenly develop writers block or tendonitis and still not be able to write without difficulty.

I'm not whining about this, honest...I'm just shaking my head ruefully at the human condition.