Three days ago, I was really excited. I had gotten this blog up and running, I was looking toward a couple of paid gigs this week, and well, the world just seemed kind of exciting.
Two days ago, I was suffering from terror. The icky intangible kind. The, "what am I going to do with my life" kind. The overwhelming, I don't have the guts to execute any of my ideas kind of fear.
Yesterday was a good day. I felt like writing, although I did none. I was very interested in applying for jobs, although I didn't. But my mood was good and I felt that I accomplished the things I set out to do outside the house. I worked in the morning subbing, I brought one donation in for the silent auction I am running next month, I spent some wonderful quality time with my lovely daughter. And I got to spend the evening with my hubby.
Today, the terror is back. This time I'm going at it head on. I'm writing–blogging does count as writing. I've hung wall-folder holders and cleaned some of my desk off. I'm going to update my resume and apply for an out-of-each, full-time editor position with Lucas Films. I'm thinking about sending out my proposal without chapters, simply to see if I get any kind of responses. I'm thinking about sending out some other submissions as well. I'm going to take the damned envelope to Susan Cohen so that she can send out letters of recommendation for me. And it's only 2:00 in the afternoon.
Failing associated with inactivity is far worse than failing after taking action. And action simply feels better. It lifts the heaviness a bit.
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