I often over expect from myself. In work, in life, in everything I do I find myself piling on the to-do's, the requirements, the projects, and the promises. During the last year I'd hoped honestly, that I'd gotten better at this, both for my own sake and those who follow me. This, however, is not the case. I find myself struggling to cope with all that I promise and all that I need to do, and all that I expect from myself. I know I can do it. I've proven it. So what then is keeping back from actually doing the thing? Why is this so hard? Honestly I haven't the faintest.
There are innumerable excuses to ladle out in defense of myself. The economy, the uncertainty of our time, the stresses of personal life and all the things that go into it. It seems like every moment I have available another reason, or distraction arises to keep me from what I want and need to do. Mold in our rental, worldwide pandemics, job-loss, economic uncertainty, family emergencies, tornados, and hurricanes, and weeks without power. Honestly if someone had told me that growing up and being an adult meant this level of stress and daily panic I would have been on the first ship to Neverland that evening. I'll take never growing up over this any day.
But, as many reasons as I have to pour out in my own defense, none of them measure up to my expectations. I should be better, I should improve. The things should have just gotten done. The Morrow Lands, which sits in the editing phase after the first round of beta's right now should have, in my eyes, been out this month. Yet I've failed in that respect. No matter that I'd given myself the impossible task of producing the book in one year, when Hollows' itself took two. My blog, which I am bemoaning on at this very moment should be much fatter with content and events and happenings than it is now, by a rather large margin. Even though this back half of the year has me at one event a month at least, and we had an amazing turn out for Hollows' first birthday for two in October. All of these things should in my eyes been immune to the times and far greater in scale than they are.
Rather than celebrating the achievements I've made over this last year, and being proud of where I am and how far I have grown, I'm dissatisfied with what I haven't achieved. This is the key mindset that keeps me from growing faster. I look at where I want to be, and not where I am. Let this be a lesson to any aspiring author, do not over promise what you can do, even if realistically you feel you should be able to do it, and do try to enjoy the path to where you want to go. Look there when you need reminding but not as you take every step. It sours the journey and eats away at your resolve. Someone who wishes to be where they are not rather than striving to grow from where they are will never grow as fast as the latter or be half as happy with it.
In that respect this will likely not be my last bemoaning my own short comings as a writer, but hopefully we can increase the time between this and the next with some work on my part.
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