Well, mostly. Broken bones aren’t great, but giving yourself a break is. That’s what I’m doing.
If you’ve been hanging out with me a while, you know that I’ve been writing like a crazy woman. I had a revelation this year that almost knocked me on my ass. Yeah, it’s only been a week since I proudly declared my goals.
Guess what? I’m changing them already.
It’s hard for me to admit when I was wrong. I’m not sure if that’s a female thing, or if it stems from having two kids who think they’re always right. Which means I’m always wrong. My kids are great kids, but I think hubby and I did too good of a job teaching them to think for themselves. They challenge everything we say, and like to argue and tell me I’m wrong, even when they’re trying to agree with me.
Anyway, I was wrong.
That was tough to say. But it’s true. I decided to write eight books in 2018. One release every six weeks. For months I’ve been debating backing off a little. Releasing fewer books. Giving myself more time to do all the little things that come along with writing (you know, like marketing and editing and cover design, little things like that). I resisted because I was scared.
You know I’m a big chicken.
I’m getting personal here. I hope you don’t mind.
In 2015, I was diagnosed with stage four cancer. Six months, six rounds of chemo, a bone marrow biopsy, and lots of stress later, I finished treatment. Two years later, I’m a year in remission, but I haven’t stopped living with the fear.
Fear of death. Fear of life. Fear of not having enough time. Fear of not finishing what I want. And yes, fear that it’ll come back and somehow I won’t notice. Again.
I’ve been writing like crazy to try to get everything done. I didn’t want to miss out. I didn’t want to leave this Earth with stories left to tell. I’ve learned that’s likely to happen no matter what. But a new fear has started to take over.
I’m watching my life fly by. I’m not living it.
I push myself. I take on too much. I rarely say no. Unless it’s to myself. I’m really good at telling myself no.
So I’ve decided to tell myself yes. Yes, I’m going to focus on my health. Yes, I’m going to take weekends off. Yes, I’m going to enjoy watching TV at night with my hubby. Yes, i’m going to enjoy snow days (like today) with my kids.
So I’m backing off. I’m giving myself a break. I’m still going to release new books. But after May 1, they will be eight weeks apart instead of six. And I won’t release anything around the holidays.
As always with me, this could change. I might decide I hate it next year, but I’m feeling relieved about it right now. I already feel less stressed out. If only it was that easy to lose weight!