Another day another question
Do I write?
Why didn’t I write over the weekend? Because I was at Publix all weekend, working until midnight.
Here I am beating myself up for taking Monday evening to enjoy myself instead of writing something, when the reality is my life is and has been so full of discipline and pushing myself that I can’t cut myself a break when I don’t actually write, when I’m not productive.
Okay, so it’s all right that I didn’t write. But that also doesn’t get my books written. What will it take for me to WANT to write them again?
It used to be my desire to write was stronger than my desire to relax. As my neuroticism has improved at 55, I’m finding the opposite to be true. I’m trying to find a way to still write and be a human.
Then again, why am I writing this instead of writing the books?
Love,
Adam
Making a living!
Interesting analogy on the writing. I'll have to think on that!
Writing is not like a tank of gas. You can't use it up. It's like planting seeds — the more you write, the more you'll have to say.
Of course, time is another matter. What are you doing working at Publix?