I'm going to be brutally honest here, and hope it helps. I have a BIG problem with procrastination. The reason why is that I am utterly terrified of success.
Here's what I mean.
My job is a breeze. I have to sit at a desk and watch computer monitors for eight hours (when they work). I am welcomed, even encouraged, to pursue outside interests, so this is the perfect job for me to sit my ass down and get a buttload of writing done. I have no shortage of work. I can work on the outline for Heir to Fire, I can work on the novel I've been hired to work on, I can edit the script for Faithless, I can work on the GDD for Oppression, hell, I can even work on Batman: Immortal if I get bored.
My problem is I always find something, some reason, not to do it. I'm lucky if I get two nights a week in where I really get something done. I spend a lot of time bullshitting with the residents and feeling guilty and mad as hell when the night is done.
People I respect have read my stories, heard my ideas, and thought they were great and worth pursuing. A long time ago, I even had a corporation ready to invest money into me if I was willing to relocate. Eons ago, a lot of people heard what I had to say and waited for me to make it happen.
I'm not sure when my number is up. I'm an unmedicated type-two diabetic, which is a leading killer of black men in America. I'm not supposed to be healthy by the time I reach my mid-forties. I'm thirty-one now.
Let's say I get Faithless done on time, I will be close to thirty-three by the time it's available.
I have spent more time lately leveling up my characters in a game no one cares about than getting actual work done.
I have begun to ask myself if this is what I really want.
I think anyone can live easily, to just do what they want, when they want, and not worry about the consequences. I think too many people adopting that mentality have turned this country in the wrong direction (sic; Family Guy: We Lost The Morals, But We Kept The Weed). I used to live this way too, but I have also come to realize that I can't afford to be selfish as a parent, and I have to take the consequences of my actions into account.
It's not just about me anymore.
So here I stand. On one end, I can live easily at this job, in this apartment, for the rest of my life, or I can put my mind to the long-envisioned Modern Magic and make it fucking happen.
I'm sick of feeling like this, though.
I need to make a decision.