I’m a day late with this post which only reinforces my greatest insecurity. Time. Where the hell is it going? It’s February already and I’m wondering exactly where January went or the whole of last year for that matter.
Am I spending enough time writing? The conflicts of working a full time day job, along with the drama and needs of a large family tend to eat away at my ‘me’ time. Where some women might take a break to get a manicure, take a hot bubble bath, or have lunch with a girlfriend…I do not, at least not in a normal month. I write.
I cut corners, create shortcuts, anything and everything I can do to have time to sit and bang away at imaginary worlds with made up characters that never do dishes or scrub toilets. YES.
I combat my insecurity by telling myself I will reach my goals; it just might take a little longer than the original plan. And in the mean time, we will eat off paper plates, and learn to love casseroles from a box. I will continue to live with ragged cuticles, dry skin, and pissed off friends.
Because I have a story to write.
Note: This post is part of Alex Cavanaugh's Insecure Writers Support Group. Check it out. You know you want to.