Sorry for the blogging lapse. There was a blog tour, a NY trip, and now CampNaNoWriMo. I'm grateful to CampNaNoWriMo for the increased focus and oomph. Getting The Mumbo Jumbo Circus out into the world took all of my attentions for a bit and I neglected the fact that a writer needs to write in order to feel well.

A while back, I read an article in The New Yorker called Hollywood Shadows 
A cure for blocked screenwriters, by Dana Goodyear. Read it. It's brilliant. Especially the section where rogue therapist Barry Michels talks about surrendering to the hegemony of Father Time as a way to beat procrastination. Truly, read it. Quite wonderful stuff.

Anyways, inspired by the article, I made this sketch of Death/Father Time as a grandfather clock. The moon in the dial is trying her best to stay ahead of the hounds of Annwn, {an'oon}, spectral creatures from that otherworldly realm. The sketch now resides above my computer screen. I'm not sure if it needs to be more than a sketch at this point. So far, it's doing its job.

And now I need to get back to Camping. Dante and the circus kids are fending for themselves in Balboa Park. Right at this moment they're contemplating breaking into the Zoo to steal hay for Solly and S'more. So you see, I need to go. Hounds nipping at my heels and all that. Chat soon. I promise.

How do you deal with procrastination? Not just you writers, but everybody. We all do it. But remember, it's like Anna Nalick says in her song, Breathe:
                 'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable
                             And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table
                                  No one can find the rewind button, girl.
                                     So cradle your head in your hands
                                            And breathe... just breathe,
                                              Oh breathe, just breathe

So surrender to the authority of Time, baby. Admit we're his bitch.  And go get something done!
Copyright Jane George