So I am supposed to be writing this article at work for an HR industry magazine, basically about the various ins and outs of our specific niche business. I have to write it for a specific audience -- HR professionals who already sort of know what we do, while at the same time describing more in detail the various aspects of the service and answering questions that might come up. The problem is that I feel like most of what I am writing is repetitive and boring as hell. Mainly because it is all very vague and I'm talking about a service while not directly selling our company's service.
It's going to be a feature article so it has to be at least 2000 words long. If you know me, you know that 2000 words is not hard at all for me to write in about twenty minutes, but I am having such a hard time writing anything. I've been putting it off for so long at work that I only have about 500 words so far. I mainly blame my work environment, as it is hard to write anything when the phone is ringing and my Outlook is yelling at me to email people back. So I emailed it to myself with the hopes of working on it tonight pre-Bachelor finale. What have I been doing for the last ten minutes? Going through my Google Reader. Reading not writing (except for this). Procrastinating and I'm not even at work. Great.

So I ask myself the one question that every red-blooded American writer asks themselves at some point or another:

What would Carrie Bradshaw do?

Well first off it'd be snowing or raining. Then I would put on an oversized sweatshirt over my underwear and then tip toe around barefoot on the hardwood floor, with a giant mug of coffee (because it would be cold) and sit cross-legged in front of my Mac and my inner monologue would start. The camera would pan out over Central Park and no doubt Mr. Big would start tossing pebbles at my window, at which point I'd stare down and he'd be there with daisies or something and I'd toss on some $900 dress and write some cutesy sentence like "When it comes to life, how do you know when a man is a dog...or just a good guy?" and slam my computer shut.

Instead, here I am in jeans and a t-shirt, staring blankly at Chubby Charles who comes bearing no daisies as far as I can tell, and about thisclose to tossing on sleep shorts, slamming my computer shut and grabbing a beer.