I am a minimalist at heart. I do not like clutter – physical or digital. The only decor in my house are things that I love or remind me of where I’ve been. I semi-regularly purge my closets to make space, so clothes I wear don’t get lost among the ones that are collecting dust. Bins of my daughter’s toys are everywhere, which bothers me to no end, but my house is her house too. I crave inbox zero. (As of this moment, the 6 emails in my inbox are making me antsy.)
The calmness of my space makes me feel calm. Except for right now.
The last few months have been utter chaos. Health issues of aging parents. Plans for a long-distance move for one of those parents. My daughter’s last day of preschool. The demolition and subsequent re-decoration of her room, making way for her first “big girl bed”. Her first sleepover, in which no one slept. Her birthday. Her upcoming first day of public school.
All of this, in addtiion to my full-time-grown-up-job-that-pays-the-bills, have left me zero time to write.
This, of course, put my brain into the perfect position to subconsciously consider my current, slow-going, passion project. I have been flooded with ideas that I cannot ignore. Check out this idea for chapter 5. Here is a detailed plan for how to research this. Oh! Don’t forget to write about this too. I have this perfectly formed passage that you can use at the start of chapter 2!
My brain is failing to grasp the fact that I have not had time to even write a haiku, much less a full novel.
The answer is clear: I either need to tell my brain to stop thinking entirely, or quit my job and spend the next 6 months writing.1
This is a terrible idea. I do not need to do this because full-time-grown-up-job-that-pays-the-bills, well, pays the bills. ↩