Picking up hookers instead of my pen

Yesterday I alerted my Twitter followers and perhaps others to my most recent post to this blog, after adding a couple links (including one to my new client). After all, Twitter, like Facebook and Linked In, is a pillar of my laughably anemic social media strategy.

My to-myself attaboys didn’t last long, though: I checked and saw my most recent update was nearly a fortnight ago, and any semblance of work on my novel was even farther in the distant past. So what the hell else have I been doing besides writing?

Well, unlike the protagonist of the Willie Nelson classic penned by Sharon Vaughn, I haven’t been picking up working girls, exactly. Instead, I’ve let the words of my youth fade away by picking up other kinds of “hookers” — those little foxes that spoil the vines of creation and productivity.

Cigar smoking under the warm and abundant summer sun. Dinner and drinks out with friends. Any manner of perquisites, the rewards of gainful employment, which sap time and ambition.

In other words, living life. But life is necessarily a balance of work and play and, like a distracted deli clerk heaping pastrami on the scale, I’ve piled up too much of the good stuff, ignoring the cost.

But today’s a new day.

2 thoughts on “Picking up hookers instead of my pen

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *