by Annette Dashofy
For several weeks, I’ve been hearing “once the conference is over, you’re not going to know what to do with yourself.”
Ah, if only.
I knew what I wanted to do with myself. WRITE. But over the last couple of months, I’ve been putting off certain unpleasant tasks by claiming I didn’t have time. Things like dental appointments. Annual check ups. And not just for me. For my mom and my hubby, too. You see, since I don’t have a “real job,” I’m the family chauffeur.
The June page of my calendar is crammed with notations. None of it’s fun. And I haven’t made ALL the appointments yet. Skye is due for a trip to the vet. (Don’t tell her!) But they’re now overflowing into July!
This is NOT how I planned to spend my summer!
Last night I sat down with my appointment book and did the only thing I could do under the circumstances. I scheduled writing time. Blocks of it.
“No, I can’t schedule my gum graft on that day. I have to work.” They understand “work.” And if I plan to attain my goal of writing as a career—complete with income—I must look at it as work that cannot be brushed aside for every little thing. It must become a “real job.”
Martha’s post yesterday started me thinking. I really do need a deadline. Since it’s self-imposed, we’ll call it a goal on steroids. And I’m pronouncing it here for everyone to see.
I will complete my first draft by mid August.
Furthermore, I will revise and edit and rewrite until I have a completed, finished manuscript by Thanksgiving.
Feel free to hold me to it. Ask me: Hey, Annette, how’s the writing going?
I know my critique buddy, Paula, will have no problems with this. She starts nagging when I’m one day late with a promised chapter! Keep it up, girlfriend!
Does anyone else out there want to put it all on the line and set a goal/deadline for themselves? Post it here! Misery loves company.