I’ve been writing a book. I’ve been working on it for a couple of years now. I think about twenty-eight, if I’m calculating correctly. So far I have the title. Actually I have a number of titles. I have an extraordinary talent for coming up with titles. So now, I have about three hundred and sixty-four of them, and I can’t decide which one is best. Maybe I should just write one book for each of the titles. Or better yet, why not write a book entitled, “The Book of Titles of the Books I’ll one day write”? 
Do you think I could be suffering from Art Carney Syndrome? Remember the physical pre-writing ritual Ed Norton performed, that never failed to drive Ralph Cramden crazy on The Honeymooners?
In any event, I seem to spend an inordinate amount of time gearing up to write. Don’t think I haven’t tried to cure it. I sent away for a set of “How Not to Procrastinate” tapes. That was in 1974. I may get around to listening to them soon. Does anyone know where I can get my hands on an 8-Track tape player?
The other problem with this condition is that it ultimately led to a secondary disorder … Ed Sullivan Stomach. It would creep up every Sunday night at exactly 8PM when a chilling sensation that would envelope me when the family gathered around the TV.
While much of America was enjoying the antics of Topo Giggio, afflicted students like me all over the country … those of us who hadn’t yet done their homework, term papers, or science projects … exhibited Palliacci-like smiles as we clutched our stomachs in pain.
Sometimes the only way out would be to resort to the world famous Ferris Bueller Solution. Instead of burning the midnight oil to complete the task at hand, I’d invest all my creativity and talent into coming up with a really elaborate reason why I just couldn’t go to school on Monday morning.
As I matured and recognized the fact that writing and deadlines would be a central part of my life, I figured that modern technology could be the answer to my prayers. Instead, I discovered that by the time I finish playing “just one more hand of computer solitaire until I win one”, I’d given myself a severe case of carpal tunnel syndrome. Yet another pesky affliction.
Now in my advanced years, I think I’ve finally developed a successful writing process that doesn’t produce Ed Sullivan Stomach. Although, I do sometimes get a little queasy during Desperate Housewives.
I’d love to share this secret with my fellow procrastinating writers. Trouble is, I’m up against deadline and totally out of time. Maybe tomorrow.
Comments
I was going to comment are you're column, but I think I'll do it tomorrow.
I meant to say: I was going to comment ON your column....At least I didn't put off correcting my comment.
This was funny - I'm going to share it with my readers who are all writers. They will appreciate!
I've been trying to get to commenting on your column but I was busy coming up with the five hundredth title of MY book. We quote your "Ed Sullivan stomach" all the time (naming you as the author). Unfortunately most youngsters (in their fifties) say, "Ed who"?
You must reveal your secret. I've been writing a book for about 3 years now and my muse has abandoned me. My men have come up with aweful titles which further distract me. What's the cure? Love ya'!
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