I’m going to get it don….

procras 3

I swear I wrote like at least 500 words on procrastination. Of course I didn’t finish it. And clearly it seems I wrote it in an alternate universe that I have now been locked out of. So yeah, gotta start over. And save. And yeah you can blame that on my incessant procrastination tendencies. I’ll blame it on my ADHD. Gotta mix up the excuses.

procras1Let me just say that I love being unemployed, though Mr. Chatterbox will probably lecture me for an additional hour tonight for that very statement. I don’t have to adhere to anyone else’s core values but mine. I’m lucky to have found a project, namely The Achieve Project, which fits my overall purpose. I’m still part of a team – which I am pretty bad at..being a team player that is. So unemployment allows me to say what I want to say, which is something that I have always done but now I just do it without thinking. I don’t feel that I have anyone to answer to. It’s pretty amazing.

There are so many ideas floating around in my head, TTChatterbox escaped the haunts of my brain and it’s growing so quickly. Getting in touch with all the local restaurants to start doing reviews, written, pictorial and video – FREE FOOD!!!. Working on my TTChatterbox backdrop for my videos. Although, I was thinking I wanted to do something a little different. My friend owns one of my favourite spots to just be – The Canvas, on Long Circular Road and this is where most of my ideas take form as I pound away on my iPad or thrash things out for hours on the phone with my bestie. Ok it’s not hours. it used to be. Le sigh. I digress. Or have I procrastinated? Because that is certainly what I set out to do…write something on procrastination and see if the WWW had any cure for me and any of you suffering with this affliction. I know for a fact, procrastination is a writer’s Ebola. Is it really procrastination though? For me, it’s just that it’s not ready yet. You can’t serve the food unless it’s cooked…unless its sushi. So let’s go with, you can’t serve the food unless the preparation is complete. Better? Yes.

A lot of my writing in the last few years has been commercial writing with a side of ideas. Strategies. Campaigns. Sponsorship plans. Business plans. Always been lucky to be able to chuck my opinion on anything in the Guardian in my signature dialect writing style. Aye aye! Ah know meh English so well, ah could talk an’ write so! Is de perfection of de imperfection ah love. Right, Angelo? So back to my writing. If you haven’t gotten it, it’s because it’s not ready. Simple as that. And when it’s ready, it will be perfect. It’s like coffee. I don’t treat myself to much these days so I am not fucking with my coffee. Good cuppa or salt. Period. That sounded geed. Can I use “geed” like that? I should be able to. Oh well. I just did. This real rambling on, eh?

When I am asked for some ideas, the process for me is this.

1. Think.

Depending on the topic, I go through a day or two of rummaging through the halls of my mind, looking for any information or experiences that may already exist that may be pertinent to the project before me. A conference I may have attended. A contact on Linked In in that field. Any link.

2. Research

After I have assessed the material I already have, I then turn to the W…W…W for the facts. Who are the leaders in the area? What are they saying? Who is the end user if there is one…or maybe, there is a victim. Then I search for ideas that would have been put out in said area in the last five years. Then I do a sort of work association game. I write down (with the help of a dictionary and thesaurus) a list of 100 words that are associated with the area in question.

3. The Task

Having completed these two steps, I then go back to the brief, the request, the topic, for now my eyes are opened. I am equipped with the necessary knowledge to create. All the information swirls around my head until my favourite moment occurs, the “That’s It” moment.

4. The That’s It Moment


I have no control of this moment until it happens. Prior to that, my brain sort of works independently of me. It’s like one of those women (dare I call them that!) in one those Love and Basketball or Hip Hop vs The Weave reality shows that allyuh like to watch. She is a Diva. Everything on her she strategically purchased and placed to total up to perfection. Hurrrr. Nails. Swag. Right up. No one teeeeellllllls her what to do. Well, a woman of this kind exists in my brain and when she dons her Louboutins, it stacks her up ah good two inches higher than me. I don’t fuck with bitches taller than me. So she sort of collates everything in my head and turns into a fabulous, money-worthy idea…and she gives it to me when she’s ready. It requires a lot of ego stroking and money-spending but as my muse, I must fund her interests. Men…I feel your pain.

So all this needs to happen for me to get the majority of what I done. Some call it procrastination. I call it…well…that.

P.S. This took me two days to kinda write.


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