I’ve spent a lot of time here talking about my writing demons, but no time at all introducing you to my ducks.
I have a little posse of ducklings I try to keep in a row:
Family stuff. House stuff. Work stuff. Pet stuff. Health stuff. Volunteer work stuff. And of course writing stuff.
I have a little posse of ducklings I try to keep in a row:
Family stuff. House stuff. Work stuff. Pet stuff. Health stuff. Volunteer work stuff. And of course writing stuff.
Sometimes it’s hard for me to keep track of all my ducks. I’ll focus on a squirrelly one and get him in line, only to lose track of a different one.
Even though I had a lot of really busy ducks last week, I was proud of how well I was keeping them in line. Even the Writing Duck, who had been particularly untamable the week before.
LAST WEEK'S GOAL:
Revise outline to reflect recent changes to storyline, and
complete revisions on 5 chapters.
RESULT: Epic Success!
Not only did I meet my goals, I exceeded them.
I was feeling like a regular duck overlord.
Revise outline to reflect recent changes to storyline, and
complete revisions on 5 chapters.
RESULT: Epic Success!
Not only did I meet my goals, I exceeded them.
I was feeling like a regular duck overlord.
Then I caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye.
I turned to get a better look, and there she was:
my problem-child duckling, Exercise.
It had been so long, I almost didn’t recognize her. But I knew it was her when she stuck out her tongue, waggled her little wings and laughed at me, then ran away in her cross-trainers.
I turned to get a better look, and there she was:
my problem-child duckling, Exercise.
It had been so long, I almost didn’t recognize her. But I knew it was her when she stuck out her tongue, waggled her little wings and laughed at me, then ran away in her cross-trainers.
Why does she have to show up to nag me now, just when I’m getting my strut back and feeling like I’ve got all my ducks and demons under control?
“I’ll never be able to manage them all!” I wailed, channeling Fay (who you may remember as the demon house-guest of fatalism who comes to stay periodically, permeating my life with a cloying perfume that’s nearly impossible to get out even with Tide, Lysol and the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser).
I sat down and burst into tears. With one little flick of a ducktail, my recent writing accomplishments, mastery of the family calendar, and deft handling of a full-to-overflowing to-do list no longer seemed strut-worthy.
I was too distraught to write that day so I didn’t meet my writing goal. My tennis elbow flared up, I missed an appointment and I blew a deadline. Then I ate a pint of ice cream in front of an inane TV show and felt sorry for myself while my kids played a game without me. And NO, I did not exercise.
Fail, fail, fail. There wasn’t a single duck in the row. There wasn’t even a row.
I was too distraught to write that day so I didn’t meet my writing goal. My tennis elbow flared up, I missed an appointment and I blew a deadline. Then I ate a pint of ice cream in front of an inane TV show and felt sorry for myself while my kids played a game without me. And NO, I did not exercise.
Fail, fail, fail. There wasn’t a single duck in the row. There wasn’t even a row.
Like the butterfly that spawned a tornado, that tiny gust of ducktail wind had initiated a cascade of all my carefully placed duck-demon dominoes. When it was over, I was left sitting in a puddle of woe with my goals, my dreams --my very life-- in ruins around me, never to rise again.
Apparently it’s pretty easy for Aunt Fay to take over my psyche.
Lucky for me I have a mentor who stopped by and opened the windows to clear out the stink of Fay’s perfume. Despite Fay’s lingering power, she could not withstand the clean, fresh Colorado breeze stirred by my mentor’s words:
Apparently it’s pretty easy for Aunt Fay to take over my psyche.
Lucky for me I have a mentor who stopped by and opened the windows to clear out the stink of Fay’s perfume. Despite Fay’s lingering power, she could not withstand the clean, fresh Colorado breeze stirred by my mentor’s words:
“Perfection is the enemy of the good.”
“That’s right!” I exclaimed. Well, maybe not exclaimed. More like sniveled. “That’s right,
I don’t have to be perfect.”
(You may recall that I’ve had a life-long love-hate relationship with Harpy,
my perfectionist demon.)
“Is it really okay,” I asked my mentor, “if I don’t have every single duck lined-up under 24-hour surveillance?”
“Sure,” my mentor said. “It’s perfectly okay to neglect a duck or two while you’re taking care of the others. As long as it’s not one of your children,
a medication you need to live, or an actual duck.”
So I stood up, dusted off the woe, and caught as many ducks as I could.
I can’t say those ducks are in a neat row, but most of them are at least back in the coop. I let Little Miss Exercise run off to do a 5K. After awhile she’ll notice I’m not there and she’ll come back, flicking her shapely tail around to remind me I’m neglecting her. Until then I’ll look after the ducks I’m able to corral.
Maybe I’ll even strut a little. So what if it makes me slightly out of breath?
a medication you need to live, or an actual duck.”
So I stood up, dusted off the woe, and caught as many ducks as I could.
I can’t say those ducks are in a neat row, but most of them are at least back in the coop. I let Little Miss Exercise run off to do a 5K. After awhile she’ll notice I’m not there and she’ll come back, flicking her shapely tail around to remind me I’m neglecting her. Until then I’ll look after the ducks I’m able to corral.
Maybe I’ll even strut a little. So what if it makes me slightly out of breath?
THIS WEEK'S GOAL:
Complete revisions on 5 more chapters.
THIS WEEK'S CHALLENGES:
2 kids graduating, 1 kid home newly home from college, and a
relative visiting from out of town (don’t worry, it’s not Aunt Fay).
ATTITUDE:
Bring it on, Ducks & Demons! I’m prepared to give you 90%.
You hear that, Harpy?
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