Wait, I'll Just Write This Post First

The Life Writing group I belong to meets every other week from February through May, takes two months off during the summer, meets every other week from August through November, then takes off another two months. Next week we'll start up again. My recovery from knee surgery and a long bout of bronchitis fitted nicely into our recent December/January hiatus, and I'm excited to get back to this delightful group of women and hear what they've written. They're all good writers, and their stories never fail to trigger fond memories of my own.

I'd be even more excited about our upcoming meeting if I were not such a world-class procrastinator.

Our group began as a class that met once a week for six weeks, two or three six-week sessions a year. I always finished my story in the alloted week but usually completed it either the day before or the actual morning of class. Later, when we formed our own group and scheduled meetings once every two weeks, I was pleased we'd have twice as long to work on our stories. I thought it would take the pressure off. It did, at first, but I soon fell back into the habit of waiting to write until the last possible day.

The theme for the story I'm supposed to read aloud a few days from now was announced way back on December 9th. It seemed like a luxury then to have two whole months to get the job done. Time flew; I don't know where it went. My story isn't ready. Oh, I haven't ignored the assignment completely. I've composed a phrase here and a sentence there, but only in my head. Not a single word has been committed to print.

A new deadline looms. Dadgum it!