On the Foolishness of your Objections: An Exhortation

O my little Cherry Blossoms! The Directorate’s Surgeons have Infused me with a Serum that has caused my Bones to Knit together, and my horrid Convalescence reaches its end. Rejoice!

My period of Restful Recovery has given me much-needed Time, with which I have endeavored to bring myself Current on the Directorate’s Mail. Much of it, you will not be Surprised to learn, is young Agents such as Yourself, tendering their Excuses for not writing, in Hopes that they may avoid their Fate. O, the foolish little Ducklings!

For I have heard these Excuses before, in all their Infinite and Sordid variation, and know them for the Clap-Trap that they Are.

I do not have time! you cry. Poppycock! You have Time to read this Web-Site, do you not? You have Time to Complain on the Inter-Webs about your lack of Time, do you not? You have Time for your Hobbies, like Fox-Hunting and Needle-Point and Square-Dancing, do you not? You have the Time, my Dumpling.

I do not have Inspiration! you cry. Balderdash. Your Inspiration knows no Limits when it comes to Inventing Excuses, does it? You find the Inspiration to Argue with People who are Wrong on the Inter-Webs, do you not? You have boundless Inspiration to Complain about Slights against you, do you not?

Furthermore, my little Pea-Hen, it is a Universal Truth that Inspiration comes to those who are Poised to Use it. It visits those who sit in front of their Type-Writing Machines faithfully, not those who sit in front of their Tele-Vision Sets faithfully.

I do not have the Skill, you cry. Indeed, few Writers do; few Writers believe their Skill matches their Vision. Yet you gain the Skill through Practice! Of all the Ridiculous Excuses, this is perhaps the Most Ridiculous. Imagine a Runner who says, I shall not Run until I am Fast! Imagine a Weight-Lifter who says, I shall not lift Weights until I am Strong! Imagine an Alchemist who says, I shall not create the Sanctum Moleculae until I have created the Sacrum Particulae! Ha!

O, my little Hot Crossed Buns, I could go on and on, but I Trust you see the Absurdity of these and other Excuses. For not only are they Insufficient on their own — but they do not Address the Harm of not Writing! What matters your Lack of Time in light of the Creeping death of the Soul that is not writing? What matters your Lack of Inspiration in the Baleful flourescent Light of the Word Urchins? What matters your Lack of Skill if the Verb-Hounds feast upon your Bones?

It matters not, my Darlings; it matters not. Simply write.

What is your Mission this week? What will you Achieve?