I woke up this morning around six a.m., and for the fourth day in a row, my first impulse was to do some work for a client. There’s so much to be done on this one account that I toyed with the idea of working on X task or Y.
No. I told myself. You’ve designated Sunday for some work. And you’re already planning on bringing the lap top to Santa Fe next weekend to work there. You must take today off.
A bit later, as I loaded the dishwasher, I thought, oh, but I could just start on S. No. Just one report? No!
Where is this compulsion coming from?
Andy says I’m so stressed out about all that needs to be done that I’m trying to use every available minute to get out from under. Yeah, that’s probably it.
NaBloPoMo has turned into an every-other-day thing. I’m okay with that. I’ll try to post daily, but I won’t guilt myself into it. And I won’t delay sleep over it. Right now, my priority has to be getting through the paying work.
What I’m really looking forward to is the day when the accounts I’m dealing with are caught up to an auto-pilot stage so that I can get back to writing at least 16 hours a week. I need that. I miss it so much.
I also miss reading.
So, yes, this urge to design spreadsheets at the crack of dawn is temporary. This driving to someone else’s office to contribute to their dream every day is temporary. This schedule that takes me away from my creativity is temporary.
This is an opportunity to practice, stretch, and earn. This is not a departure from becoming myself — from writing Ruth into being. It’s merely a detour.