I swept a floor that didn’t need it, I cleaned, folded laundry, walked around the house about 14 times, balanced my bank account, ate breakfast, lunch and 2 extra snacks, watched a Dr. Phil that I’ve seen before, drank 3 cups of coffee, breathing heavy at times with a wild-eyed look in my eyes…and many other things between 8:30 a.m. and 2:00 p.m. I did all of this while flirting with an anxiety attack, wandering around the house, stalling as long as I could. You would think I was getting ready to have a root canal, but no.
I finally sat down, opened my trial version of Scrivener, and started my book. I’ve been “trying” to start it for 2 years now, and after pulling out the poster board holding my old mind map, I panicked briefly when I couldn’t remember where I had been going with all of my scribbled ideas.
Writing it down here sure makes me seem a little neurotic, but instead of deleting everything, chickening out, and closing WordPress yet again, I am forging ahead. Who knows? Maybe someone else out there can relate.
Just sit down, relax, and write. So many emotions over something that would seem to be so easy. SHAME- my hard-working husband who asks next-to-nothing from me and was so excited that I was going to start writing once I quit my job; INCOMPETENT – I haven’t written anything, even though all the conditions I swore I needed first before beginning my writing career were met and then some; PLAIN-OUT SCARED – that my one dream of writing successfully may be as good as gone if I discovered I was a terrible writer with no imagination. That pretty much sums up how I feel when I think about writing.
But I overcame it today and sat down and wrote my heart out. The one reason I haven’t given up is because I know how my mind works. I may not like it, but I know how it works. Ole One-Track Mind Mandi; that’s me. If I’m consumed by kids, the small amount of miscellaneous projects I do for my old real estate team, pretty much just regular life, then I am on a totally different wavelength than the part of me that is artsy, a loner, a bookworm, a painter. I can’t switch between the two at will. The only reason I’ve made it this far tonight is because I took a Lortab for a terrible sore throat. Sure helps with relaxing. Too bad I can’t take it every day. I’m convinced that a lot of people I know would be so much more pleasant if they had one, too, but that’s another issue altogether. I know that if I can get my act together, as in everything here at home taken care of, things done that I’ve been putting off forever, that I will be able to allow myself to zone out and reach that other realm that alludes me most of the time.
It was slow-going at first, kind of like a locomotive just starting to move. But it quickly started flowing along, and I typed my little fingers off for over two hours getting an outline together. I’m starting with a non-fiction book, since I’m still a little too scared to go the fiction route like I really want to. I’m a very good organizer of thoughts, and I love details (I swear I should write owner’s manuals for a living), so a nonfiction book about organizing and household management no less, seems very doable to me. And Lord knows, I’ve bought my share of those kind of books over the years. Fiction is next though. Just getting used to finding my voice, learning that crazy Scrivener, developing the habit of sitting down to write every day, reading other author’s blogs, Writer’s Digest, anything I can.
So, for anyone who cares, there will be more to come from me, and hopefully, it will be somewhat interesting. You have to start somewhere, right?
Nighty-night, fellow bloggers!