If I weren’t so lazy, I would go to coffee shops to write more often. It might help if I drank coffee. The bustle of activity in coffee shops, while seemingly distracting, is more like white noise once you start to write. Plus, you can’t just go over to your bookshelf and read the titles to yourself or lie on your floor and see how many pillows you can balance on one foot at any given moment.
If I were as serious about writing as I claim to be sometimes, I would also join a writing group. It takes the constant buzz of a coffee shop and adds in the forced attention to the task at hand, since everyone else is writing.
At the writing group I attended yesterday, I typed around 800 words in 40 minutes. Granted, they were stupid words, words about the only thing I consistently write about these days—the tired, monotonous subject holding my figurative muse hostage and clearly having way too much fun torturing her to let her go any time soon—but still, they were somewhat more structured words than they would have been had I been at home typing them.
The critique part of the group I could maybe do without since 1.) I am terrible at taking constructive criticism (yeah, fine, so I should put myself into more situations to receive it, I get it), and 2.) I am terrible at giving constructive criticism to strangers who have submitted a piece of writing with so many confusing structural issues that I wonder whether the errors were committed on purpose, as a weird sort of world-building (“In this world, no one ever knows who’s talking because there are multiple lines of conversation in the same paragraph!”).
But I am lazy, and I’m not as serious about writing as I am about obsessing over pointless musings like whether my ankle will heal in time to run a half marathon in 3 weeks, and how many crunches are necessary to negate the effects of eating an entire chocolate bunny in one sitting, and if there’s a pill you can take to make you like dating, and how long it would take for people to find out if I died since I live alone, and how time is definitely moving faster these days, and why it’s so difficult for a peach to be perfectly ripe. So for now I will continue to write at home.