a writer's irony

Every writer I know has trouble writing.
- Joseph Heller (author of Catch-22)

In the past several months, I have done a lot of writing.

Articles, letters, research papers, press releases, e-mails (yes, when done well, those count), proposals, and so on - the list continues.

I work best when I have deadlines, pressure, and the assurance that when the assignment has been completed, it will have been worth the effort.

That book? That screenplay? I haven't seriously looked at either in a while, even though every, 100 ideas come to mind, and when possible, I'll jot them down on slips of paper, but nothing more.

Why is it that so often we find ourselves unable to find time to do what we would most like to be doing?

The hardest part of writing is getting to the moment when you can firmly decide to just sit down and write. Even then, there is no guarantee that you will be able to produce anything of value - each attempt has you starting from scratch.

If only I had been given some other passion, like a strong desire to calculate numbers at an accounting firm, or some other talent, like being a studious and diligent violinist. Then I could just do it, without question or hesitation, not a chance that people might have come to watch a great performance in vain.

I would at least have liked a profession that held the possibility of being celebrated and turned into a reality tv show, hehe, ala Project Runway, Top Chef, Top Design, and other such Bravo gems.

Top Writer.

Boringest show ever.

P.S. I just wrote this twice. Why? Well, because autosave purposefully chose not to save my work. To extend the metaphor - violinists don't have to worry about autosave. Their violins aren't going to just disappear.

Five Boro Bike Tour

Two years in a row and counting, I participated in the Five Boro Bike Tour this past Sunday, and I think we all came to the conclusion that 32,000 cyclists is about 10,000 cyclists too many.

hehe - crowded, you ask? Just a bit.

I am very happy to say that we all made it over the entire length of the Verrazano Bridge without any stops, collapses, or breakdowns. Not surprisingly, that was one place where you had ample room to bike without any other cyclists in the way. It was like some crazy somber march where everyone was just trudging along very quietly and very intently. Nothing says fun like biking 4,000+ miles over a suspension bridge to none other than Staten Island - I don't care what anyonr says =P

Intense physical events to come - scuba diving in the Keys, surfing at Robert Moses, and the Urbanathlon in the fall.

Spelunking, anyone?