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That's it, I'm a writer

I have a new focus. About three weeks ago a writer friend contacted me to write a short essay for her book. After thinking about it for half a second and before I could let my fear get a hold of me I said, "Yes, of course, I'd be honoured".

Now, what I am seems quite distant from "honoured" at the moment. I've done some preliminary work on the piece but I am afeared. You bet I am. The Resistance is great with this one. I will find anything to do or think about to keep from doing or thinking about that piece. It's got to get done. I have a deadline. I have a freaking deadline. It's got to get done and soon.

Part of the distraction I am creating for myself is study. I was studying three courses until today when I finished the first of three. It was not easy. It was a 7 day workshop on what else...writing. The Science of Happiness is a class that I am taking with edX or online at UCBerkeley. It's one of many classes about happiness or love that I hope to be taking in the near future. Finally, I am enrolled in a 52 week course about permaculture. I have to feed the brain that is writing and permaculture seems like a worthwhile endeavor.

With all this excitement and added stress, even good stress is stress, I had to take the bull by the horns and begin to think seriously about planning and scheduling again. Every morning I get up and make my bed. Then I brush my teeth and all that goes with getting myself ready for the morning. After that, I take a walk with my dog and my roommate and come home and we all have a breakfast of sorts. It's at this point where I've been sitting down to plan the rest of my day. Right now it looks like spend 45 minutes each on the 3 courses I am doing and 45 minutes on some sort of writing. Any sort of writing. Heck, I wrote a poem this morning about how I didn't want to write a poem. If I can find it, I'll post it here.


Resistance

First frustrated sigh of the morning I do not fancy writing a poem Breathe in, breathe out Do it.


There it is and that is my way.



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