Minus the Fools’ Day bit.
I love the beginning of a new month. It’s so SHINY and full of possibility, with no mistakes in it yet! Even better when it falls on a Monday.
Today is also begins second quarter of 2013, which prompted me to check in with myself on my goals for 2013. How am I doing? Honestly? Meh. I could be doing better. Last month I got mired in stress about sales and next books and the publishing business, which is so easy to do and so not conducive to the actual writing. And when I am stressed, I over-indulge in shadow comforts – those things that make you feel better at the moment and then not better at all later – like loads of comfort food and lounging on the couch watching VERONICA MARS instead of writing at all. (I am watching for the first time, I’m almost finished with season 2, and I love it. But choosing Duncan over Logan is as boring as Stefan over Damon, or heaven forbid Dawson over Pacey. I will always choose the snarky boy, even if he’s a bit of a jackass, over the overly earnest.) Anyway, it happens. I still wrote 22k in March and had tons of fun at the NYC Teen Author Festival, so the month was not a total wash. But as of today I’ve recommitted to more mindful eating and movement via Weight Watchers! (I’m jessica.shea there if anyone wants to friend me for mutual support.)
I also got a bit angsty last month ’cause lots of my friends and The Playwright’s friends are pregnant or have adorable little ones, and I want a baby but I do do not quite want a baby yet, and I have been feeling weird and selfish about it. It is a strange thing to be a woman of 32, married for six years, with The Playwright for a dozen, without a child. There is a lot of societal pressure. People give well-meaning advice about not waiting until you’re ready because you’ll never be ready, of there never being a perfect time. And I see the wisdom in all of that; I do. But I also love my new career. I feel like I’m still settling in to being a writer – one book out, one on the way in June, one currently unspooling from my brain onto the page, one in proposal form. I am not quite ready to interrupt this, even for a pause, even for a baby. Which tells me that I am not ready. I may feel differently at this time next year…but for now, writing is my priority. And I think that’s okay. (The Playwright is, as ever, supportive.) I thought I’d write about it because I’m guessing there may be other writer or aspiring-writer ladies out there who feel the same weird guilt, and I wanted to tell you too: it’s okay!
I’ll leave you with some images from my Inspiration pinboard: