No time like the present

Harry Bernstein, you inspire me.

Into his 90s, decimated by the loss of his beloved wife, and alone at night with the memories of a rough and sad childhood spent battling an alcoholic father and vicious anti-Semitism, Harry Bernstein decided to write.

What started out as almost a form of therapy eventually turned into a book called "The Invisible Wall" that chronicles his childhood in a northern England mill town and — considering that it wasn't published until he was 96 — serves as an inspiration for aspiring authors.

...

"I've been trained to finish something you start, don't leave anything undone," he says. "I just feel I'm not satisfied until I finish what I start. And I will not be satisfied until I start something new."

Thank you, Mr. Bernstein. I, too, was trained to finish what I start, but I seemed to have unlearned this. Perhaps I'll never write the Great American Novel, but I will commit to two posts a week. Not out of any sense of guilt or obligation, but because I need to. Like running, writing is something I have to force myself to do because I am lazy and a world-class procrastinator. But once I get my tired, work-ravaged ass out for a run, my feelings of dread disappear and I glide along the city sidewalks, graceful and swift. Just kidding. I huff and puff and lumber along, but I love the movement and the feeling that I get a little stronger each time. And after my run? Bliss.

It's the same with writing. There are a zillion reasons not to start: no one wants to read my dreck, I'm tired, I'm too ADD to stick with a topic, I don't do transitions well, and everything I say is shallow and unoriginal. For starters. But then I trick myself, get just a few words down and for a while, the nagging voices are quieted.

So, tomorrow I buy "The Invisible Wall" and the day after, I post again. And then, at least two a week. Maybe more.