By Chester Campbell
I'll have to confess, for the past few weeks I've been acting like an old man. Instead of working on a new book, I've been perched in my recliner watching TV movies, taking naps, and using my laptop to peruse Facebook and links to all kinds of weird articles. On most days I've headed to the mall for my two-mile walk, and I've done a bit of online promotion for my stable of published books.
But act like a motivated author and write something new?
It isn't writers block. I've never had a problem with that. Maybe it's plain old laziness. After pushing the boundaries for 88 years, maybe I need a change. Mountain climbing is out. Don't believe the old legs would hold up for that. Swim the English Channel? I'm not all that fond of salt water. Anyway, the cold temperatures here in Nashville lately have been quite sufficient to keep me inside where it's warm and dry.
I don't need anything that's going to take a lot of training. I'm not interested in getting another degree, or taking up hang gliding. Although I do feel a certain fondness for things of the latter ilk. So where does that leave me?
I've been a writer of one sort or another most of my life, at least since I entered college to study journalism. Starting out as a newspaper reporter, I free-lanced nonfiction, wrote speeches for a governor, founded a local slick-paper magazine, worked for advertising and public relations agencies, and published a magazine for a trade assoociation.
Obviously, writing is what I know best. So why don't I quit fooling around and do it? Good question.
The simple answer would be to get my lazy rear out of the recliner and go to work. But that's the way I work, sitting on my lazy rear in the recliner with a laptop in my lap, just as I'm doing right now. Oh, what a horrible conundrum. What to do, what to do?
Forget I said all this. I'm going to the mall and walk.
Visit me at Chester D. Campbell.com