Pushing Through

I hope when I’m in my 70’s I can party like my neighbor. But that’s beside the point. Another day of work tomorrow, but thankfully, I don’t go in until late. Unthankfully, I then have to stay late. Yippee. Aaah…paying the bills vs. having the time to write.

I spent the day reading through a lot of writer’s sites and blogs. I read some reviews, and am fairly impressed with the output of several authors at an e-publishing level. I also have the cold, hard reality staring me in my face.  In a slight continuation of my last post, it seems I’m dwelling on getting stuff done. And the thing is with the writing; you can’t just throw any random drivel out there. Well – you can – I am consistently horrified at the crap that gets published, filmed and recorded, but I just don’t want to be one of them. At least without trying my damnedest not to suck.

Time. It takes time not to suck. Sometimes, it even takes incredible concentration. Since I am known for having the attention span of a squirrel, I’ve got my work cut out for me. I also really enjoy sleeping – and that takes up so much time too. Blast my warm comfy bed.

Somehow, I am making time to write. I know this because I keep finding things in my folders, and it seems I have written them. Sleep does get cast to the side, because I still have to pay those pesky bills. Subsequently, throwing the clothes I sell on the ground and stomping out is not my preferred action at this time.

Here is my reality: I have to push through. There will be TV shows relegated to some unknown viewing future. Bags under my eyes from missing out on my much-loved zzzzz’s. Evil stares from my love due to my self-absorbed clickety-clack on the netbook.

The other option is a no-go however: letting all the words and feelings and ideas that I have had roiling around in me for most of my coherent life be the thing that never was. Not being true to who and what I am, and therefore short-changing all of my loved ones, not to mention myself.  Allowing myself to give up, and just coast through the rest of my days, slogging along, not really accomplishing anything I had ever dreamed.

The party’s over next door, I just heard the guests leave.  It’s creeping up on midnight, it’s quiet, and everyone is in bed. I’m tired, and my microfiber blankie sounds really nice right now. But I have another chapter to finish first.

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