I took a couple of days off this week. No plans, just not working. I am really enjoying my new job now, but I had started to feel a little penned in. It was time to take some time off. It's funny to think that the only real difference between a work day and a vacation day is a stroll down the hallway and a turn into my office.
Before I started my new job, I had been so worried about being dedicated to working while still being in my house. So often, I avoid working on my own creative endeavors within these walls, and I worried I would feel the same way about real life work.
I don't though. I work with ease and dedication when someone is counting on me. Even when I am not feeling it, I plunge in and do it anyway. After a while, I lose myself in acronyms and procedures and before I know it the day is done and work was accomplished.
So I realized my resistance to writing my own work is all in my head, or maybe my heart. Fear is a powerful force.
With empty vacation days looming on the horizon I wasn't sure what to do with myself. I felt the same sense anxiousness I always do. Knowing in my heart I should be doing the thing that brings me peace and yet somehow is the thing I often deny myself.
I decided to try an experiment today. I walked down the hall and turned into my office with my own laptop in tow. I dedicated myself with the same level to my own work that I get paid for every other day. It was a weird sensation to sit in the same spot, and feel that sense of dedication, but this time to myself.
I got down to work and looked up four hours and five pages later. Turns out all that time writing in my head makes writing on the page a little easier. As I write this I am afraid that tomorrow I will revert to my old ways, but I pray I will choose love and joy over silly fears.
It's a strange beast, motivation! What is it that makes us do what we do? The thought of getting the sack? Not being up to scratch? Writers have only their inner demons and deadlines to overcome! Oh and that elusive quality, inspiration!
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