Getting my life.

I threatened myself today. I gave myself an entire lecture about responsibilities, showing up with a “can do outlook” and went over the long term positive results.

I need to write on the correct project.  After keeping track of my days I realized I don’t actually go days without writing something.  It’s what I’m writing that is a challenge.

I’m considering going back to painting so I can do something not book related and sometimes that brings me back.

Today, driving home from work I turned the music off.  I rode in silence to the house going over what my expectations and goals were of myself.  I explained to myself, lol, that books don’t write themselves.

I also reminded myself if I wanted to be a full time writer I would have to stop using being exhausted from the job that actually financially supports me.  I’ve also told myself I need to look into grants that will give me an opportunity to work less hours outside of writing.  I tell myself, every word I pen puts me one step closer to being able to sustain with my art.

There is a little voice who knows the names of all the writers who died broke and who were discovered after they passed.  That voice also notes all the other self published books.  “Everyone is a writer,” it says.  This makes it even harder to show up to the page, but I figured I’d exorcise it by writing about how I need to finish this book and focus solely on that project.

I don’t know how well it’s working, but here I am writing a blog and not in my manuscript.  Afterwards, I’m going to take a nap.


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