So for New Year’s I made the decision to safeguard my writing time a little more aggressively than I have been. It means less social media, more closing the door to my office, less being an unpaid therapist for people, more nailing myself in my chair and letting those who need a free psych session find it elsewhere. More running, more writing, more staring out the office window as my brain tunes itself to that hum of creative daydreaming…and less twitching when I suspect someone might want or need something from me.
For someone used to leaping at the slightest application of current through the electrode labeled “I NEEEEEED you”, it’s incredibly difficult. My semi-obsessive need to take care of those around me is, no doubt, great for some things. It’s not so great when I’m having to struggle to meet my deadlines.
Anyway, so I’ve backed off tremendously on Twitter. It’s a form of micro-blogging that drains off energy and pressure needed for other things. Like, oh, my website. And the Ripper book. (Bad Lili, stuck at a dinner party for days. Time to scrap that scene and move on, says I.) And a million other things, including the piano lessons the Princess has expressed an interest in.
So today I cut 2K of bloody useless words and move on. Maybe the inspector doesn’t need to attend dinner in Mayefair. Maybe Emma and Archibald need to have a big, deadly knock-down drag-out over the things they’re hiding from each other. *is thoughtful* I suppose any long-term relationship, of whatever stripe, occasionally needs an air-clearing.
OH, and I should tell you guys about Odd Trundles and the veterinary office, and how he chewed a can of Squeezy Cheez, and the amazing eye-watering stench…but that’s another blog post.
Catch you tomorrow, chickadees.