About the last thing I want to do is write a short story right now. I got home from work and turned the air-conditioning. The thermostat was showing 91 degrees. I want to eat some ice cream and relax by reading or watching a film. It's because I don't want to write that here in a while, after I get some ice cream, I will write, no matter how bad the output is.
I'm on day five on Warren's book, and in many respects, this delaying of mine is, I realize, a kind of test. Listen to that great voice in the sky, telling you something. In my case, that I don't want to do and yet I'm going to school to do it and that I would love to have a nice finished story, I've got to be able to put in the work. I can't let resistance get the better of me.
We're all morally obligated to make use of our talents. If my talents are writing and teaching, not to use them means I'm squandering them. All my experiences and my faculties are here to be used as raw material. I've been entrusted with being this person, in this place, with my history behind and future ahead, and I've got to make the best of those abilities.
I'm going to go out and get some ice cream. Then I'll come back to write. Watch.