The Universe is Trying To Tell Me Something...

[e_goddess]

I'm just back from a quick trip to the store, because I needed to restock on tissues, juice, soup, and Gyspy Cold Care tea.  (The best stuff ever!)  I probably looked as bad as I ever have outside my own house.  No makeup, no jewelery, hair sloppily pulled back in a braid.  The only positive thing I can say is that I was not wearing sweatpants.  Of course, that meant that I had to run into an old friend.  In this case, it was Cody, who I worked with at Barnes & Noble long ago and far away.  He recognized me first, or I might have hidden.  As it was, we had a nice, but short, conversation.  He asked if I still worked in the same office, and I told him I did.  I asked what he was doing now, and he said that he's back in school, working toward a masters.  He also told me that he teaches writing part time.  We had a good laugh at the futility of teaching 19-year-olds whose idea of writing is to text "c u @ the mall?"  Then, all casually, he said, "Oh, and I finished my first novel."

I told him that was amazing and congratulated him.  He got all modest and told me that it hadn't been picked up by a "big" publisher, but he was just happy to have earned enough money to stay in school.  Shortly after, we said our goodbyes and headed off in different directions.

I'm happy for him, really I am.  Of all the "writers" I know, Cody was among the most talented, but the least committed.  For him to have finished a novel is incredible, and I could see that was what mattered most to him.  I'm genuinely proud of him.

But at the same time, I want to bang my head on my desk in frustration.

It's time, I think, for a plan.  I like plans.  I also like outlines, charts, and deadlines.  It's getting past those super fun things that I struggle with.

So perhaps it's time to come up with a plan, and also find a way to make it work.