Actually, I thought so.
I have been working on a book over the course of the past five years. One of those was spent researching and plotting, and somewhere in the middle, there, I stopped writing for about a year-and-a-half, but continued drafting. I finished the first draft of the book over the summer 2012... and found out that it was terrible. That's not exactly true, but it's close enough to the truth that it works for our purposes. Before taking my long break, I had drafted roughly 100 single-spaced pages (60,000ish words), and then stopped. In rereading it, I found out what I knew all along, but didn't think would hinder me too badly: I was young, and had no idea what life was about.
So, pen in hand, and discouraged not at all I started to redraft. I shortened passages, making everything much more efficient, less wordy, and dropped most of my unnecessary language, having learned that I'm not as smart as I think I am, and need to stop pretending to be. Bit by bit, the draft got better, tighter, actually readable in places. . . And I'm proud of it now. I read somewhere that around 3% of novels that are started get finished, so some people would think that finishing the first draft over the summer is something to be proud of, but I figure if it isn't readable, then it's nothing to inspire pride. So I continue to work on it.
I am currently 40% of the way through editing and revising my existing text, and am frankly afraid of the next 22 pages because therein lie the reason I thought the book was terrible. The content of those thirty pages not only leads to the wrong ending, but the gap between my early writing and the work after my year+ hiatus is in there, as well. It's a huge hurdle to re-plot those pages (because it's not something I've ever been able to successfully do, whether it be in short stories or papers written for college. It's historically been a concrete topic, and I would mosey my way around it until I made a central point), rewrite them, and make the language seamless between the old and new material. Needless to say, I've been procrastinating.
Enter those two articles. The world doesn't owe you shit, Punches the first article, followed up with a right hook of if you're ever going to amount to anything, then do whatever it takes to get it. Bam, pow, right in the kisser. Then the second article moseys into the ring with a deceptive hipster-hatred theme. I thought I was safe until it dropped a line similar to "Oh, you're an artist? Well, quit being lazy and make some damned art." Jeez, I thought I was reading about welfare, and people that aren't contributing to society. So instead of pulling up the working document of my book, I went to bed. That was about two hours ago, now. That I'm awake now clearly shows that something struck me from those articles.
I've never been sold on the concept of God (but this, my friends is a conversation for another day), but clearly, something was telling me to put my big boy panties on, and get back to work. The irony isn't lost on me that instead of working on my book I'm blogging about how I should get to work on my book. I guess I have a problem with authority, even if it's ethereal.
I guess I just wanted to spill out my thoughts about this, and I'll be getting back to work in the morning. If you don't see me for a couple of days, please just assume I'm getting my ass up and doing something by putting my ass in my chair and writing. I'll catch you on the flip side.