The best-laid plans and all that, always seem to backfire when it’s me who makes them.
Doesn’t matter what it is, something will always get in the way. My best days are those when I don’t plan anything, almost as though I must keep it a secret from myself.
I have lost track of how many good writing days just happened.
This works for everything. If I plan to cut the grass, the heavens will open, and it will rain all day. Some of my unplanned days turn out to be amazing, far beyond my expectations.
As you can imagine, this state of affairs plays havoc with my progress, something I have trouble accepting. I mean, who is in charge around here?
I love it when it happens with writing. I can be in the middle of the daily chores, and emails when I get this overwhelming desire to pick up a pen and write something that has popped into my head.
I welcome these moments, even when they happen first thing in the morning when I only have one eye open. I suppose this could be what happens to rebels when they get old, if it is, it’s the only part of growing old I approve of!
I often wonder if I need more discipline, although saying the word puts my teeth on edge.
It would increase my book production though…
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