Time. I’ve been struggling with that a lot lately, which is hard for me to admit. Time management has never been a struggle for me. I wouldn’t say that my issue is time management per se, but rather what to do with the time I have.
Someone recently asked me what I like to do with my free time. My first thought was, “What free time?” The more I thought about it though, even if I did have more “free” time my answer would have to be whatever I’m doing at the moment. It’s been a strange feeling because I have truly wanted to just be doing whatever I happened to be participating in at that moment in time. If I’m playing with Tigger, that’s what I want to be doing for the rest of my life. If I’m playing my cello, that’s what I want to be doing for the rest of my life. If I’m writing, that’s what I want to be doing.
The reason it’s strange is in the past there has usually been something I’d rather be doing. I’d rather be playing my cello or writing or reading or anything but what I was doing. Now, it seems to be coming back to wishing I was doing something else rather than what I’m doing. I’ve felt the pressure of really getting back into my writing, but it seems like every time I sit down to work on my novel, my brain isn’t thinking that way or Tigger wakes up from a nap or bills need to be paid or the list goes on.
One of the unwritten rules of writing is to use your spare time to write or schedule the time to write or make the time. I am a firm advocate of making time for whatever you feel is important. I know that can be done. I’ve lived that way for a long time. You can make time for whatever is important.
That brings me to my real struggle at the moment. I want to be writing. I want to be a published author. I want to have that happen. I know what I need to be doing to make it happen, but everything takes a sacrifice and what am I willing to sacrifice to make that happen. Is it worth my time to make it happen? What am I willing to give up?
I see that question written out and I wonder what the answer is. Sometimes I don’t know how I would respond. Are the sacrifices worth it?
A favorite author friend of mine once said in a presentation that your kids are only little once, but writing will always be there. I’ve thought of that many times when Tigger wakes up from a nap earlier than I would like or he doesn’t take a nap or we decided to do something as a family during the time I’ve set aside for writing. Is the sacrifice worth it?
So as I’m struggling to get back into writing and not being successful with getting my brain jump started into the novel I’m working on, I’m continually wondering if I’m doing what I should be doing. Is this my time to be writing or should I be focused on something else? Should I even be pursuing writing?
A week or so ago, all this came out with my writing group I meet with weekly. (Well, not all of it, I was able to sum it up better then.) One of the gals told me that I shouldn’t worry about the writing. I had a traumatic beginning of the year and sometimes we have delayed reactions to things, so don’t worry about it.
I don’t know why it hit me with what she said, but I felt like a burden had been lifted from my shoulders. It’s okay to step back and focus on some other things for the moment. It has made life a lot easier to not have that continual worry. Do I still wonder if the sacrifice is worth it and how much I’m willing to sacrifice? Yes. But, for now I’m good. My writing will happen when it’s supposed to happen and I shouldn’t be beating myself up for not making it happen now. Life to short to live that way.
Again, I’m not sure this post is making sense. You can tell that my thoughts are all scattered, but hopefully you’re able to take something from it. I know that I’m more aware of what I will have to sacrifice to make things happen and I’m always asking myself if it’s worth it. Prayerfully, I’m making the right sacrifices.