Finished an important script I'd been putzing around with (for almost a year) last night. It felt amazing to finally sit back and read it, knowing I've accomplished something toward a higher goal. I've got so many more things I want to write, things I need to write.
I need to go back over the script for 'Fearsome' and make some adjustments. Jeremy and I are looking to lengthen the book by a few pages and add in some 'fan art'. We'd like to hit 22 pages and make the book a full size instead of its original ashcan format.
There are so many outside stimuli that its difficult to concentrate on writing. I'll have to figure out how to diminish those. *ponders* But- the upside of this is that I've begun to figure out when the absolute best times to write in my home are. Sometime between midnight and 4am, when the children are quiet and a loud TV is an apartment complex no-no, I am at my scribbly best.
I found myself recently pining for the time when I wrote something for myself at least once a day. I had a journal that was on my person at all times and made sure that every semester of school included an English class. On a side note- this could be the very reason that enjoying math eluded me. In English, Social Studies, Science, etc- writing was permissible and even encouraged. In mathematics, if you weren't writing numbers you weren't paying attention and therefore punished. Ugh. I'm just not a numbers gal.
I'm trying to keep promises to myself, to include a time for personal reflection every day and to spend at least one hour daily working on necessary projects. And I mean daily, even with the flu or a bought of serious depression. I can't just keep throwing my hands up and walking away every time I'm remotely discouraged. Life isn't easy. There is no little bow tying everything up neatly. I need to bust my ass to work for that bow so that when my life finally reaches its culmination, I can be proud of the pretty parcel I'm leaving behind.
-Lisa
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