A flibbertigibbet, a will-o-the-wisp

So yesterday, I successfully wrote several pages of a short story. BOOOM. Felt good about that, I might actually finish it by the end of the week, which would leave next week for revisions (man, do I hate revisions) and maybe then I can concentrate on the REAL books. Again.

Focus is always my biggest problem. I can’t tell you how many stories/novels/daydreams I’ve started and I have all these lovely threads in my brain that just want to be woven but I CAN’T FOCUS ON ONE. It’s like I’m sitting in a field of dandelion wisps and watching each one float by me and trying to catch them, while going “OOOOH, lookit that one! No wait, oooh that one’s pretty!”

My last couple of jobs were entirely anti-focus jobs; it was a perpetual drop-something-do-this-now, oh-wait-this-needs-to-be-done-too, NO-WAIT-GIANT-EXPLOSION-OF-DEADLINES-FIX-IT-NOW kind of job and retraining my brain to be able to focus on one thing for more than 15 minutes is HARD. So hard. It’s like multi-tasking (which really isn’t multi-tasking, but you know) is now so ingrained into me that the idea of working on one single solitary project for an extended period of time sounds so…. agonizing. And slow. And unproductive. Which I know it really isn’t, but it FEELS like that.

But no, that’s how I’m going to get shit done right? One thing at a time. One thing. At a time.

Oh frak.


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