She Loves Me, She Loves Me… Not?

Lately, all I think about all day, every day, is how much I have to get done, want to get done, don’t have done. That’s it. Where’s the joy in life in that? And, today I realized that along the way, my Sophie, my beautiful silvery gorgeous Sophie MacIntosh MacBook Pro, that I love, and, I’ll admit it, occasionally hug, has become The Enemy.

My beautiful Sophie is my life, literally. She reminds me of my appointments, helps me keep up with family and friends ,and helps me earn my living. I’d be lost without her, and so would my clients, though they don’t know that. But, lately, I just haven’t been feeling the love. And, since I’m not seeing any of the joy, all I see is the work. Work Work Work. And when we’re done, how’s about a little more work? Sheesh. No wonder I’m exhausted by four o’clock in the afternoon.

And, if I try to follow that logic, then writing has lost its joy and is now work. Sort of like dating became a little over a year ago: just another task on my To Do List. Picture this: It’s late afternoon, I answer one last email, check voice mail one last time, pdf one last report to California, then head out the door to meet some guy I’m too tired to be interested in for dinner. After which, I insist on paying half the check so I won’t feel so guilty about how distracted I was during dinner and then go home. Finally. Alone. Now, I ask you, is that the right kind of attitude to have while dating? Survey Says: Not. Which is why I stopped dating over a year ago. But that’s a blog for another day.

So, this morning, I went to my local Starbucks to ponder this problem. I love my Starbucks, they have nice comfy chairs and ottomans, and it’s big and clean and relatively quiet. I took my tea and I sat down and stared out the big picture window and had a moment or two where I could just breathe and think. Time to sit and breathe and think has been in short supply lately. For the last year, maybe longer, my life has been one long never-ending list of things to be done, errands to run, telephone calls to make, emails to send and whosamawhat’s to get fixed. Being a single mom, and working for myself, by myself, I’ve had the privledge of doing it all myself too.

While I sat there and sipped my tea and watched a cute couple with their new baby and several college kids around me highlight their books and flirt with one another, I had an epiphany. It was like swimming to the surface of a murky lake and finally reaching the surface where there was air and sunshine. Literally, I heard a POP in my head.

What I realized was that my Sophie had become my enemy. She’d become this thing that taunted me from the other room with all that I hadn’t accomplished. That’s why I can’t get to email from people I like and love, post on the loops I enjoy, start that article that’s been buzzing around in my head, or finish the first act of the wip I’ve been working on since March. Sitting down in front of my computer, or getting online, in any way, just reminds me of my To Do list and all the aforementioned crap that’s on it.

Writing had become one of those tasks on the list that never got done, and what I realized was that somehow I had acquiesced to the fact that it was never going to get done. Except, I had decided that it was never going to get done because *I* wasn’t a writer. All of my other writer friends were finishing things, starting things, posting on loops I barely had the energy and focus to read. But I was not. So, obviously, I’d been kidding myself. I was no writer. I was never going to be part of that crowd, I was destined to be a wanna be, with partials and starts and stops banished to the attic. However, while I sat there and stared out the window, I also realized that I never really stop writing. When I dream, I’m crafting story in my head, when I hear a song on the radio it sparks a scene in my head, and, when I get the hell out of my own way, I like the stories I write, and have written. So, I am a writer. Because a writer is someone who writes, published or not doesn’t enter into it. I’m a writer. I am part of the crowd, although, really, it’s more of a Clan.

So, now my job is to figure out a way to make Sophie my friend again. A few weeks ago I talked a friend into having a weekly critique session by phone so we can talk writing and help each other recharge our batteries. I’m hoping, and have hoped, that having the call on Monday nights will help. But, I also think I need to get out more, get some of that joy I was talking about back. So. I’m going to start dating again, too. Why? Because I want to, finally, and depriving of myself of it, even though it had become one more task on my list, hasn’t given me less to do, it’s just made me unhappy.

And, that’s no way to live.

I write romance for crying out loud! A little of it in my life is probably a good thing! So no more hibernating and depriving myself of things I like. Like writing, and dating. That’s stupid, silly and unproductive. Not to mention whiny.

It’s time to get out and put a little sass in my giddyup — starting now!!

And, along the way, I’m hoping I’ll end up with a little more joy on my “To Done” List. Which my beautiful lovely Sophie will be helping me write.