It's Sunday night, and I was just lying in bed with Lula--she practiced reading in Joedy's and my bed and fell asleep there, and I was close to falling asleep too, but then I got up and came downstairs and polished off the chocolate fudge brownie ice cream and HERE I AM!
I'm hoping to have a very organized, productive week. Joedy and I decided that he'll take Lula to school tomorrow and then hit the gym, and when he gets back I'll go to a coffee shop to work on my children's book. I don't really like leaving the house to write--there's always some annoying distraction, even if I'm wearing earplugs--but if I stay home I'm wildly tempted to clean, or do anything to avoid writing.
You'd think from the amount of effort I put into avoiding this project it's something I really don't want to do, but it's just a bad case of hyped-up standards and...fear, I think. Reading that sentence, I see how those two things go hand-in-hand: with such high standards (I've already decided this book will be the first in a looooooong series, which will get turned into PBS-type movies, which will enable me to buy back my childhood home and--please, God!--that pair of Friesian foals I've already named) of course I'm scared. I've already let myself down 6,849 times since I came up with the idea in the 4th grade!
But: I'm getting old. I'm going to be 37 in--oh, Jesus--four months. And the circumstances Joedy and I are enjoying now (we're not rolling in dough by any means, but we're stable, and I have some free time) aren't going to last forever. So I feel like it's now or never. Do it now or die houseless, horseless, and without having written that STUPID CHILDREN'S BOOK, YOU BIG DUMMY!
Sorry--a little "motivational speaking" there. It's always a good idea to criticize oneself when one is feeling like a failure for being unable to write a short, simple picture book about a goddamn bug. Works for me every time! Except for those times I find myself distracted by dried guts of dead flies on the window sill and imperfectly folded towels in the linen closet. Now those are things that need to be ADDRESSED! Immediately! With great vigor! For long periods of time, at least until it's time to pick Lula up from school, and then...well...my children's book? Of course I can't work on that while overseeing snack, homework, play...no way! Can't blame me for not getting anywhere today!
Back to what I was saying: I'm going to be 37. I should have a career by now. I should be saving for Lula's and Malko's college. At the risk of sounding hubristic and deluded, I think my children's book idea has potential. At the very least, I think it has potential because there are many not-very-good children's books out there, many that aren't particularly original or entertaining. I think--again, at the risk of sounding big-headed and delusional--I can do something original and entertaining, and I think it could have a chance of "working." And I'm going to be--sweet Mary in blessed Heaven--40 soon. So I have to do this. I have to give it a shot.
"Jesus, God, Mary"...I'm not even a believer--I must really be desperate.
And I haven't even talked about the jewelry/mobiles thing yet...
Crap. How the devil am I going to do it?
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