About a month ago, when it still felt that winter would last forever, I set a deadline for myself. I would have the draft of my second collection of short stories finished by summer.
It is now Memorial Weekend, 80 degrees outside and I’m wearing shorts. Let’s amend that to say I’ll have the draft done by the END of summer.
For some reason, I was holding off putting the collection together until I published more of the stories separately. Just a habit – finish a story, send it out for publication. Then, maybe I was hit on the head with a coconut, I remembered that I don’t need all the stories to be published first.
In fact, I’ve already published six of the stories and hopefully a couple more before the collection is ready to publish. What am I waiting for?
Well, truthfully, I’ve been working on one of my novels and want to be done with the stories. The easiest way to be done with them is to ignore them with the excuse that I don’t have enough published for a collection.
See how convoluted my mind is? It’s mental gymnastics to make sure I get in my own way. Because what if I do finish the collection? What if no one wants to publish it? What if the sum isn’t greater than the parts? What if I then work on my novel and that sucks, too?
It’s like my mind is a toddler – throwing a tantrum for no discernible reason – and I have to wrestle it to the ground to show that, if it just stopped for a moment, it would see that nothing is wrong. We just have to get going.
So consider the toddler calm for the moment as I tackle the rest of the stories.