For anybody singing along at home, this would be to the tune of the not-that-popular Boyz II Men single from the early 90’s. (Don’t judge, I warned you I was different)
The words continue to pile up and while I’m happy with ANY progress, I’m having a hard time not playing the comparison game. Forget comparing myself to any of my CPs who could totally wipe the floor with me right now — and have the release dates to prove it — but the comparison to myself at this time last year makes me wince.
I’m a better writer, just not producing as much. Some would argue that quality is better than quantity, but I’m honest enough to say I’d probably throw a shoe at those people. Or at the very least mock them.
There is no one waiting on me. No call I’m dying to be a part of. Nothing that would fall apart if I didn’t have XYZ finished by XX, but I constantly have to reign in my zealousness. And the urge to start even more First Drafts. (Stupid finish 5 MS goal in 2010 won’t leave me alone). I’ve always thrived under pressure — mostly self-imposed — but it leaves me in the position of being a Pessimistic Optimist. Sometimes I hate my brain.