Tiny Steps

Last night, I stayed up to work on admin tasks that needed to be done. Little things like reconciling the business accounts, updating one of my websites, and trying to restructure my calendar for the rest of the year.

While looking at my projects, I opened one of the files for the manuscripts I need to finish this year. I told myself to write one sentence. No heavy guilt trip for not touching it over the last three weeks. Just one sentence.

I went through the other files. Just one sentence. By the time I went to bed, I'd typed 466 words between the four manuscripts I need to finish and a book of the  heart that probably won't see the light of day until 2024 or so. But those 466 words were progress, dammit. The last decent writing day I had was September 18th, the day I woke up with the dang sore throat.

Sometimes, life throws you some pretty hard rolls. It's okay not to want to write when you're laying under that heavy roll. You need to do what's right for you to recover from what hit you.

In my case, my imagination has always been my refuge when life got shitty. By giving myself permission to only write a sentence, I got a couple of pages written.

And last night, I dreamed of a space adventure. A fun dream for the first time in three weeks. Maybe my Conscious and Subconscious realize they need to work together to pull themselves out of the morass they've sunk into.