Member-only story
Lately I’ve hit a new low. Schlumping around, depressed, full of self-pity with a generous side order of pandemic- and climate change-related dread. It’s the malaise with a million names, and it’s been in charge of me for the past long time.
Writing has seemed impossible. A “What’s the point?” monster moves in before I even sit down. Or it’s the “you deserve a rest” siren, with the Sleepy Stick. Or it’s the urgent need to clear out this drawer. This one. Right now.
The Distraction Diva, always demanding attention — but especially if I’m about to sit down and write.
Enough. I’m done turning my back on my commitments.
I finally have a plan that gives me a fighting chance. Here it is:
I sit down at my desk at 10:00am and I write until 1:00pm, no matter how I feel about it.
It’s the second part of that equation that makes all the difference. “No matter how I feel about it.” That means that tomorrow morning, let’s say I didn’t sleep so well or I’m just not ‘feeling it’. Too bad. 10:00am to 1:00pm, I’m writing. The material might not be my best. But my effort is.
