I’m cleaning out the closets and nooks and crannies behind the scenes here at the lighthouse. I have taken a break from writing. Yep, I have put down my pen and picked up the broom and started organizing and compiling and tossing and brainstorming.
Doing some of that…”Hmm..did I write that? Hmm. Wow..did I write that? Oh..gosh, yuck, did I write that??? And they still let me play in their sandbox?? Gosh, are they forgiving or what.
It is all in the name of working on THE BOOK. You know…THE Book. The one that we all have floating around in our heads that we say we are going to write but, we dabble a little here and there and some of it gets done and most of it doesn’t? Well, I went into my mental book closet today and started gathering up all of the stuff that I have already written and started to put it all together so I can actually see how much more work I have left to do.
It’s kind of like finally sitting down and paying your bills after weeks of just thinking about it. OR putting away all of the laundry that you had washed and just piled up wrinkled in the laundry baskets but never sorted or ironed. Why is it that the JUST FINISH IT is the hard part when you have already done the JUST DO IT part. I mean, I already wrote most of it. I already washed the laundry. Why is it so hard to put the darn clothes away and start to get things organized for the actual figuring out how to turn written words into a book?
I think its the same reason my closet doesn’t stay cleaned in real life either. I am a gatherer of life. An observer. I watch it, savor the moments, examine the expressions and the emotions of the people around me, I connect the dots, I wonder at the possibilities, I turn it over, watch as the snow-globe sprinkles out all of the magic that no one else sees, and then when all is finished-I put the moment aside. I record it, place it in the pile and like a child who waits for Santa, I turn my eyes to the next experience. I rarely look back. Unless forced to by a need that out ways my inborn drive to propel toward the future at warp speed. Now I want to compile all my essays and writing into THE BOOK. So that need to sit still and NOT create and just compile and task and “to do” is a need greater then writing.
I am impatient with the past. I am impatient period. I don’t like chores that slow me down or make me look backward. Going back and working on words I’ve already written is like walking into yesteryear. I have something to say today. I’m SO NOT INTO THAT NOW.
This is where self-discipline comes in I guess.
I remember feeling like this around the 16th week of training for the marathon. I had fun when I was running 5, 7, 10, and 12 miles every weekend. Around 14 miles on Saturday morning I was grumbly. By the week I had to run 16 miles I was down right bitchy. Who’s bright idea was this anyhow?
It usually is.
Everything I have ever wanted to achieve in life has had its moments that just stopped being fun. In fact, most of them had trials that could be considered pure hell. Every single one worth remembering has had something. Every single one. So…I didn’t expect that writing a book would be any different. Not really.
I don’t have to like doing my chores. But if I want to get through to the other side, I have to put my head down and charge through. Just finish the NOT FUN part of the tasks. Like putting the clean clothes away in the closet or figuring out what to do with the stacks of written work. Get things organized. Spend the time figuring out what sections everything should go in. Line everything up all nice and pretty until it all looks good.
It’s time to put my inner kid in time out and put the grown up to work.
It’s time to get things done.