I’m getting to the point where there is so much going on in life, I’m starting to feel resentful that I don’t have enough time to read and write.
Thoughts like ‘I could finish writing a chapter in the time it takes me to do the grocery shopping’ or ‘I’d rather be reading a novel’ weigh against my day’s activities. It’s very anti-social and I find myself measuring units of time in word count, or pitting my chores (as they now feel like chores) against my favourite pastime.
Do I really need food? I could go a few more days on the measly scraps in the pantry…
Why are my friends having so many birthday parties!
Do I have to head out for just one thing? I’ll save all my running around for one trip. Time management will give me more sacred moments with my book. Mwha ha ha.
Which gives me more satisfaction – catching up on all the gossip over coffee with my friend, or getting another 3,000 words down?
And if I do go out, that means showering, finding some nice clothes, doing my hair and make-up, driving around for ages!
Ugh! I could be writing… I think I have a problem.
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