Time flies. My days seem long enough, but the weeks, months, and years are slipping by faster than I would like. There is so much I want to complete, and at the top of the list is my novel. It is poised at the point of around 95% completion.
A writer writes... right?
Unfortunately a writer also eats, sleeps, pulls weeds, takes care of the cat. Even so, there should be plenty of time each day to write. The problem comes when we insist on having our time be perfect ideal time, as in, a long uninterrupted block of it with nobody around and no interruptions. If we are married women in conventional households, many of us also feel better when all the other work is done first (IE housework) because otherwise we feel guilty. And yet, if we call ourselves writers, isn't writing our job?
My goal is to disengage the bad habits surrounding my writing, including my perfectionism that sometimes convinces me tomorrow just might be more optimal for writing than today. I also want to pull back on the proofreading and rewrites and move ahead with new text. That kind of procrastination is the most insidious of all because it feels so noble, so necessary... and in a way, it is, but not nearly as important at this point as moving ahead.
What will I accomplish today in terms of my writing projects? Today I would like to tackle Chapter 113 of "Regarding Reverie". But first, there's someone coming by to repair the love seat in the family room...
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