Now What? a.k.a. You Should be Writing

You have heard of obsessions, when a man is haunted day and night, say, by the idea of the moon or something? Well, I’ve got my moon. Day and night I am obsessed by the same persistent thought; I must write, I must write, I must write. . . . No sooner have I finished one story than I am somehow compelled to write another, then a third, after a third a fourth. I write without stopping, except to change horses like a post chaise. I have no choice.

Trigorin in The Seagull by Anton Chekhov

Russian playwright and short story writer, Anton Chekhov, was born on this day in 1860 (died 1904).

True story: Trigorin was not distracted by the Internet.

I spent a good portion of last week talking about the reorganization of my home office.

It is, mostly, complete. Mostly.

There’s still a lot of extra paperwork around and there needs to be an ongoing purge of stuff.

But the room is rearranged and functional.

Perfect for writing.


I have long said, as have other writers, that the ideal environment for writing does not exist.

Sure, I’ve dreamed of taking the iPad to the coffee shop and cranking out the next great American novel. But that’s just a romanticized idea that may or may not ever happen.

I’ve set the office up to have a place to write, a place to read, and a place to work on art projects. The honest truth is that I’ve spent more time over the last week drawing while binging some television and Best Picture movies.

I’m a writer who draws. Or an artist (drawer?) who writes.

I can no longer blame the condition of my office for keeping me from doing either of those things.

Still, if you want to meet for coffee, hit me up.

My Ranking (so far) of the Best Picture Movies.

Killers of the Flower Moon
The Holdovers

I still need to see:

American Fiction
Anatomy of a Fall
Past Lives
Poor Things
The Zone of Interest


Available on Amazon.

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