blink, blink
grabs soapbox, slides in it the back of the closet, buries it under the letter jacket
I, uh, absolutely suck at that. I have my butt-in-seat at the appointed hour. I have all the tech working as designed. I have the cursor blinking where I left off yesterday. Yet, four dog-walks, a carafe of coffee, and a heap of crumbs down my chest later I have written a whopping big...nothing. I can't tell you where the day went. I can't tell you what the major distraction was. I can't even tell you what I accomplished instead of writing. Yep, I am a champion. Whooeee. Lookie me. Champion of what? Who knows, but something that's for sure.flashes toothy grin
Here's what I don't do: I don't beat myself up about it. Yes, I would really, reaaaaallly like to be able to write consistently daily. I've been doing this for 15 years and still can't come close to it. I've got a thousand and one excuses, motivational mantras, and yeah-buts. None of that changes the only way to "fix" a lack of progress is to get back to work. So, I can either make myself feel like shit for not hitting the goal and then get back to work, OR, I can skip the emotional distress part and just get back to work. I opt to skip the baggage and just get back to work.
It's 2020, nobody needs more anxiety.
