Does anyone else remember that old song, "In a hurry and don't know why?" I think it was by Alabama. Part of the lyrics say, "I rush and rush until life's no fun. All I really gotta do is live and die. But, I'm in a hurry and don't know why." Kind of depressing. Anyway, my point is this, I find myself rushing all the time. I hurry to finish the laundry as if my life won't be complete without a clean house. Ha. Ha. Ha. Okay, so I have a touch of OCD. I often try to do everything on my "To Do" list all in one day, even though the list can be quite long.
I don't know if I'm addicted to a sense of accomplishment or if I lack the ability to relax. The new book I started a few weeks ago, Bound by Blood, I've made a conscious decision to put it on hold. I don't have writer's block. (I don't believe in it.) I know exactly what's going to happen, I'm just not ready to write it yet. I want to "live" with these characters a bit longer. I want to get to know them better so that I can tell their stories more completely. You can tell if a writer really understood the world and the characters by the emotion (or lack thereof) in any story. I want mine to be complete.
This is a choice I made. I did it on purpose. When will the story be ready? I'm not sure. It might be tomorrow or it might be a few months from now. So, why did I start working on it again yesterday? Because I'm impatient. By the way, I put the project back on the shelf after making some important notes. Nothing wrong with notes.
It seems like I'm always in a hurry to do something. I lack stillness. Now, I'm not talking about the kind of stillness like sitting on your butt and eating chips in front of the television. Ha. Ha. I'm talking about stillness of mind.
The older I get the more I have this unexplainable sense of urgency to get things done, to accomplish something truly wonderful and/or noteworthy.
When I wrote my first novel in 2007, that was right in the middle of a truly stressful time in my life. Not because of writing, but other factors. For example, I had a chain of horribly stressful jobs that took their toll on me mentally and physically. Not to sound like a whiner, but I haven't worked with the public since March, 2010 and I am only now beginning to feel like I've recovered. People are so awful to each other that it takes my breath away. Being professional and preforming your job to the best of your ability doesn't count for shit and it certainly doesn't give you any job security.
When I began writing full-time, it wasn't only because I was working toward my dream, it was out of necessity. Two years later, I don't feel like a different person. I feel like my old self. You know, the me before I became bitter and wounded by repeat encounters from "Assholes R' Us" card carrying members.
Things are improving for me by the day and for that I am truly thankful. Still, I can't seem to shake this sense of urgency. Maybe it's because I worked for an obsessive compulsive lunatic for 4 years who breathed down the back of my neck every second. Sometimes I think that may be the case.
The rest of the time (when I'm not suffering from PMS) I realize that if I suffer permanently from dealing with those jerks, then they win. I can't let that happen. If it takes 1000 workouts and hours of meditation, I will learn to calm down and take my time. Damn it, I'm going to lollygag if it kills me! LOL
Just because I don't have a new book come out every month doesn't mean readers will forget I exist. Besides, I've had 2 new releases this year already. Not to mention, all my backlist books that I'm re-editing, adding content to (in many cases) and re-releasing. Plus, I'm working on getting into the best shape of my life. At least, that's my goal.
As writers if we don't take time to read works besides our own, watch favorite (or new) movies, and experience life, we miss the chance to refill our creativity.
So, here's the reality I keep telling myself, I'm not on a deadline. No one is breathing down my neck to finish this book. My readers will enjoy it more when it is all it was meant to be, and so will I.
Once again, I'm sharing this because I truly believe I am not the only writer who has feelings like this. Hell, I don't think you have to be a writer to relate to me. I think ALL people who have to work for a living go through things like this.
Plus, yesterday (April 26th) was my birthday and I tend to look more harshly at my accomplishments (or lack thereof) when another year has past.
But has a year really passed, or just another day? The day before my birthday was just another day. And you know what? So is my birthday. I didn't suddenly age a year in one day. It happened gradually, day by day, minute by minute. That's how a life is made. It's how success is built. It's how winning is done.
Now, who wants ice cream? Oh, right, I'm lactose intolerant. Really, I'll stop making jokes now. I promise.