Every author has the best of intentions about getting their writing done (look at GRR Martin and his “I’ll get Winds of Winter published soon, I promise”), but then reality steps in and kicks your intentions to the back yard.
A few weeks ago I thought I’d do three pages a day, in the morning, while my baby plays on the mat and the bigger kid is in daycare. Then, when she fell asleep, I can get to doing paid work which requires more attention. It worked! For two weeks solid, I wrote and wrote and felt darn good about it.
Then came last week. All my good intentions just went out the window. Every morning seemed to be some new kind of blockade. The big kid was sick. The baby cried every time I left the room (“Mum where are you I can’t see you mum!”). All my paid work suddenly became super duper urgent.
And after three days I procrastinated. I had some time, and the baby was gurgling on the mat, and my laptop remained in a drawer, sitting quietly while I lazed on the couch and thought about other things. I justified it by saying to myself that everyone needs some time off, right? And maybe I had lost the flow…
Even the best of intentions can’t be sustained a hundred percent all the time. So I’m going to start my writing again this week, and go with 80%. Because 80% writing is better than no writing at all, and that also means my good intentions can keep gently rolling along.