Have you ever found you have so much you want to say that you end up speechless as a result? The thoughts tripping over themselves in their hurry to be the first one out, but the collision course results in nothing being said? That is the feeling I woke up to today.
Sundays are partially lazy days, and partially crazy days – on one hand it’s lazy because the family and I spend Sunday mornings in our beds either sleeping late or staring at electronic screens until we are either hungry or the desire for companionship overtakes us. Then, when we finally come together all the things that Sunday means become real.
Last minute laundry, checking the lunch supplies for the week, homework review, and for me – organizing my thoughts for the blog post. Normally pretty straightforward. Except not this week.
This week each time I sat down to the keyboard I found myself easily distracted by household chores – my cabinets now shine and smell like lemons. Then I noticed I forgot to charge my computer – which is strange because I normally am pretty adamant about keeping it on the charger (even though that’s not the best thing, technologically speaking). And by the time I booted the computer back up, well it seemed like all my thoughts didn’t quite fit for this week’s post.
So I took some more time to consider what it was I really wanted to say. And I realized that my post from Friday I talked to the etymology of procrastination. And the internet is filled with memes about writers being distracted by anything from housework to mobile games to the sudden and immediate need to shred old tax documents … and I wonder what it is that drives us to put off the one thing that we also burn to do.
Why do we allow our fears of what comes next stop us from doing anything?
And if I really think about my personal reasons, I guess it comes down to this – in our current state we can believe the story we tell ourselves. That we have nothing but potential. That someday we’ll complete the project we’re working on and become full-time writers and make enough to live on while we write the next thing.
But if we let ourselves dive too deep into the statistics, that only so many writers actually make it to that magical point … well we’d give up. So we put it off, because then we won’t be that statistic.
Except, here’s the thing … we already are that statistic if we refuse to power through beyond what scares us. And other than failure, what do we really have to lose by powering through?
So I’m done letting myself get hung up on the what comes next – because what comes next is the potential for amazing. And the only thing standing in my way between now and amazing is me.