Zombies Are Sadists and A Note About Patience
I lost supplies on my run this morning. Had to drop them to distract the zombie hordes TWICE because I just couldn’t run fast enough. Because every blessed time they showed up, it was on the upside of a frigging hill. I am convinced that Zombies!RUN uses the GPS to find when the hills are coming in order to institute this. It can’t be a coincidence. OW MY ACHING HAMSTRINGS.
I’ve got a long way to go to get back to where I was at Christmas. My happy little 11 minute mile seems a distant memory just now with so much time off (this morning was an average of 13:16). Stupid rain and sub freezing temperatures. Had many walking stretches this morning. But I’ll get there again. Eventually.
In more positive news, I read an awesome post by Claire about her encounter with a guardian angel over the weekend, which left her with some amazing and much needed writing advice. The post is well worth reading, but the take home message is that
You must be patient with yourself.
Those of you who have followed me for any length of time know that patience is not a virtue I possess. ESPECIALLY with myself. I push myself, HARD almost all the time. To write faster, better, more efficiently. To not waste time or words or effort. I have this tendency toward trying to make myself into some kind of word production line, which is hardly a romantic or creative view of the process. I’m trying to be better about that, but it’s so NOT my default setting that it’s a constant challenge.
I don’t think I aspire to greatness quite so much as the lovely Claire (probably a good thing as her amazing brain continually astounds me with its awesome and makes me wish it were a vacation destination–or not…there WERE all the creepy bugs in Cavendish). I’m not so much concerned with being remembered by generations or answering big questions of the universe (at least not intentionally). My work is unapologetically commercial, and I’m cool with that. My motivations are far more selfish and entirely to do with doing what I love for a living. If I touch readers along the way (and I’ve been very blessed to have done so and to have readers tell me so in tweets or emails) that’s just gravy.
But to do either of those things, I need to take care of my creative muscles, and that means refilling the well, resting, giving my brain time to rest, eliminating distractions and toxic real life stuff (where possible). Which all takes time that I never feel like I have. It’s a catch 22. But that’s part of what this year is supposed to be about for me. Finding my zen in spite of all of this stuff.