I am of the feline persuasion. Old cats can learn new tricks. My seventeen and a half year old cat Hunter learned he can get my mother to instantly give him treats and food. All he has to do is stand on his hind legs, balance himself against the kitchen chair that my mother is sitting in, and stroke both of her cheeks with his paws.
My new trick was this: Even when my head feels like it is going to implode from congestion and a high-powered antihistamine, I can still write stories. Yes! It’s true! I do not have to be running at maximum capacity to work on my writing.
I am shocked, I tell you. Simply shocked! Okay, well, maybe. Not really.
Recently, I have not been doing writing after morning pages and my blog. I have trouble concentrating and staying focused. This distractibility has been worsened by the medications I take for my fibromyalgia pain.
I am also a Facebook addict. I have been ignoring my self-designated rules for what activities I am to do during the day vs. during the evenings. I decided to make myself sit down and work on my story.
I tend to edit as I write, which can be a problem. Too much editing prevents me from moving forward with my story. I figure I will have to make multiple editing passes on my short story anyway. I have to remind myself not to get bogged down by minutia.
The perfectionist in me longs to find the perfect way to express a thought. Perfectionism has made me feel like I am never good enough. Enough is enough!
The one thing that has made me happier than I have ever been and less angry than ever is that I write. I am finally in the zone where I can tell what is a good decision vs. a bad decision. I am living in peace because of writing.
When I fail to stay focused, I pay the price by becoming even more distracted and do my writing less.
Back to focus.
Back to Self.
Back to writing. That is the only way forward for me.