You know that feeling when you’re nearly done writing your second novel and your third and fourth are bouncing around in your brain and then you’ve got a whole trilogy in a completely different genre saying HEY LOOK AT ME and all the destinations you visited during an epic year of travel are tugging on your sleeve and crying DON’T FORGET ABOUT US and you’re also getting ready to leave for two weeks and you’ve got another course you’re creating because you realize you know stuff and it’ll help others who are where you were?
Yeah. That’s where I’m at right now.
And you know what?
I. LOVE. IT.
I have never felt so creative and motivated. I’m not scared I won’t get to it all; I’m excited I have such abundance in my cart and a big box store filled with more from which to choose.
How do I have room for it all?
I journal every single morning. Blah blah blah. Whatever comes to mind. Then almost every single morning, I write fiction for at least thirty minutes, often more. Then I get into “work,” a.k.a. my “job” as a travel writer. I use a combination of bullet journal, Asana, and Notion to keep it all organized.
When I think of something, I write it down. There’s no way I could keep track of all these flashes if I don’t, and I’m not going to put that kind of pressure on my brain. My pen/keyboard is like Dumbledore’s wand. It pulls the thoughts out and makes room for more. Yet I get to keep them. Refer to them. Use them.
I work seven days a week. But then I take off for days and weeks at a time. I love what I do, so it rarely feels like work. I’m excited to get up in the morning. I’m excited to get to my special writing place and let the words flow.
Most of the time they do flow. Sometimes, they don’t. Rarely, I don’t want to write, but I do it anyway.
How did I get here? It’s been a long time coming. A lot of introspection and Deep Thoughts and picturing my perfect life. What does it look like?
Me, writing.
I better go. My little grey cells are having a party without me.