photo: cocoparisienne via pixabay

I should be having a mini-celebration, of sorts.

I challenged myself to start a proper blog in 2016 and then to make one post each Friday. This, my 25th post of 2016, should have been posted yesterday. Instead I’m writing it on Saturday. I’ll still meet my weekly goal, because by now missing it feels wrong. I know I have only a few readers, but I want to keep up momentum, build muscle for the future, create a body of work.

At this point, I’m still doing it for myself. I have not excused my efforts with the distractions of work, writing for my writers’ group anthology, editing and rewriting, entering competitions occasionally, writing short stories and submitting to journals. My second novel is so cold, forgotten on the back burner, that I will have to perform Frankenstein levels of reanimation, once I get around to it again.

Then, an unexpected two-week deadline for an ongoing project hit. Due on 4th July, a day of meetings starting with a presentation I have scarcely started yet.

I feel scattered. I remind myself to breathe, take it one step at a time. Deadlines stretch away into the future, a gauntlet that must be run before I can rest.

This is life. I’d like a win to encourage me, but though it doesn’t come I keep working anyway. Because without the work, no win is possible.


I’m still sending my wishes out into the world, hoping that one or two seeds will take root. Sometimes the biggest victory is simply to try again, to get up one more time.

I will allow myself to cheer quietly, when the presentation is done. Sometimes we forget to mark the mini victories in our quest for the big one. I’m off to put that saved bottle of pink champagne in the fridge, where it will remind me daily that a celebration is overdue and I earned it.

Meanwhile, breathe, work, breathe, repeat.

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