When I’m ready to write, I am READY, y’all … my brain starts to light up with bolts of ideas, my pulse quickens a little, and before I can even put my fingers on the keys I’m babbling into the notes app on my phone (which makes me feel like a TV psychiatrist, but we can tackle my sitcom related identity issues in another post.
Let’s get back to it.
So when I finally get to writing, when I finally get to putting words down, the excitement ends and the familiar sound of mental bargaining start to echo in my brain, like vendors in an open air market:
Shouldn’t you be doing something more important right now?
Why aren’t you writing for your day job?
Take this writing energy and apply it to your REAL work.
If you work now, you can play with your writing later. Be smart with your time!
And then I sit, until what I want to do becomes the thing I’m not supposed to do. Because I have a responsibility to my job, right? I mean, it pays for my house, my tools, my security. It is the reason that I am free to do what I want to do, after all.
When I have the time, I tell myself, when it’s the correct time to think about what I want to do with my life, I will. But first, let me get my work done.
But is this “my” work?
