Talk about meta...
One week into 2023 and I need a vacation. How 'bout you?
What a year it's already been. Health issues, relationship challenges, financial WTFs. You name it, this week has brung it. For friends and co-workers, too. It's gross and it's everywhere.
It's also been motivating. Much as I'd love to make a life out of hot tea, good music, and nothing-but-reading, the upheavals have nudged me into productivity.
I took two days last month to plan for this year. (There's a saying about that... something about man planning and God laughing. Hmph.) The plan is focused on All Things Writing, both the fiction career and the freelancing dreams. It's a solid plan. I've already stumbled in some sectors. Imposter Syndrome whispers and I fled to the known and comfortable.
And that's okay. As long as I don't stay there.
For a month or so, I've been joining my housemate (the Inimitable S) at the mermaid coffee shop every Saturday morning. She likes to start early, so I've been dragging my ass out of bed at 8am. On Saturday. I don't get up at 8am during the week. Why did I agree to this?
Because it's incredibly productive, that's why. I'm writing entire short stories in a day. Good ones. (Shut up, Agent Imposter.) We chat a bit and then settle into work. I'm editing and submitting and organizing and then writing more. Like this blog! I've been on this wooden chair for almost 5 hrs and I'm tickled with the work I've done.
Is this my place? No. But it is a place. It's out of my home and away from the siren's call of laundry and dishes and whatever else I can distract myself with.
Writers love nothing so much as not writing.
At least this writer does. Life is hard right now and it's not showing signs of being kinder. Like so many others, I struggle with anxiety and depression. I want to sleep all the time. My bed is the coziest place I know and also the loudest of sirens.
But I'm here, every Saturday, trying to push back. I'm managing Expectations (my word for the year) and feeling pretty good about the path ahead. Here, away from home, I can pretend the worries aren't peering over my shoulder. I can be productive and feel accomplished.
Goals don't care about mental beasties and cozy beds. They need watering and raking. They need weeds pulled. They need care and sunlight and determination.
Let the rest of the world rage. I've got work to do. For a few more hours, at least.
How 'bout you?
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