I am a procrastinator. All weekend I knew that my book manuscript (and three paying freelance articles) were due today. I freed my schedule on Saturday for writing, knowing that I had a board meeting for the local non-profit I work with on Sunday morning and wanted to clean the house before today.
So, what did I do on Saturday? I slept until noon. I helped the fiance’ ACE bandage his poor achin’ shoulder. I wrote posts for another non-paying blog- eleven of them. I caught up on my blog reader. I watched 80’s movies with Ally Sheedy and Phoebe Cates. I walked over to the grocery store. I had a donut with the future mother-in-law. All in all, plenty was done. Just not what needed to be.
Which means that Sunday became a frantic race to dash home from my board meeting and be creative on command. I scraped together my juices, threw some music on the iTunes, kicked the fiance’ out the door to work, dragged the laptop from room to room to find the best spot in which to be creative. Creativity is hard to muster on command. As the day wore on, I convinced myself I would never finish. That I couldn’t possibly write anything. That I would miss my deadlines and my chance to get published (and get paid for the freelance work). I fell into despair.
And then, I remembered my old mantra from the long summer I spent teaching at an arts camp. “It will happen, because it must happen, and then it will be over.” (And when the kids weren’t around I added, “and then there will be cocktails. Lots of them.”) It’s never let me down. I’ve found very little that must be done can’t be.
So, I took out the contacts. Put on my glasses, which always make me feel more serious and ready to work. Sucked it up, put on my big girl panties, and wrote. And wrote, and wrote, and wrote.
It may not be brilliant. Or perfect. But its done. And my editors will appreciate my working on time a lot more than tardy perfection. (Especially since there’s still time for rewrites….)