10 February 2012
And when I write? I soar. I feel light and free and satisfied. Like this is what I was meant to do.
Not, I've found, the writing for work that requires I abide by the 'understated' tone of the organisation and get three different approvals for every paragraph posted on the website. I need real writing. The kind that streams from the movie in your head, that sings with emotion, vibrates with your soul. I need to work on my damn book. It's 4:30 am--I've been up since a 3:30 baby feed--but it's taken me this long to psych up for a blog post. Will I even open my manuscript before the baby wakes for the day or I decide to steal a few more minutes sleep? Why do I delay?
Because I need it too much. It's too important. And what happens if I finish that novel, finish those revisions, finish those queries and actually get what I want? What happens after happily ever after? 'Well,' I tell my idiot inner procrastinator, 'there will be more books you can write, book promotion to deal with, a whole host of crap you can't even dream of, basically a whole new world to explore. Get on with it.'
So, I'm signing off to get on with it. I hope you all find the will get on with it too. Happy writing!