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Capable of Procrastination

I woke up this morning with the insight that I need to feel capable in order to write. This is in regards to periods of days when I can't seem to sit down long enough to write a chapter or even a page or two. For me these periods are a plague. A plague I have been through so many times that the next -- though apparently inevitable -- sparks little terror and more dread.

Capable: being able to perform,

Simple enough definition. Agreeing to that it feels like a second meaning in juxtaposition lays near there as well. Like a street word with its back up and chest out "Well! Are you punk! ARE you Capable?"

To which I claim, yes, with my barbaric (if a bit underwhelmed at this point) yalp. I'm always capable. But, am I? Am I really?  How come I feel that back alley conversation every time? For these and other questions with no answers,  read on. 

What gets me is that I have never actually lacked in my ability to write, or to acquire work -- which makes sense -- since I can write, right? Any writer willing to show and not tell is able to find work as a writer through simple email conversations. I write an email to you I don't want you to enjoy it; I want you to hire me to write the next one and the many after that. I want you to know that a year from now you'll look across the room at my office and still believe it was a damn good idea to hire me. Damn good.

So, yeah I can write. Got all the Cognitive Bias working, all of the Fallacies understood, and all the neuro-emotion signs in my hand, shaking and ready to roll down the felt table mixing up jazz, and searching for hip-hop beats to pace by.  Rhetorical Devices to hand, brace yourself for eleven. 

So what is this crap about "am I capable?" 


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