Staring at My Present

I spent the weekend reading about women who have changed their lives with an invention when their chips were down. One lady made millions by creating house pins for the homeless shelters. Another lady came up with a purse clip for keys. Another woman created a cupcake business. While these stories are inspiring and fill me with hope, there's just one problem.

I'm not crafty.

I'm not a chef.

I'm not a salesperson; I don't just not take no for an answer, I don't ask the question.

All I know how to do is what I'm doing now: write.

So I write; I started this blog for the purpose of writing more. But I still have a long way to go. I'm forever fighting procrastination and losing, forever starting and not finishing, forever thinking and not doing. That's got to change.

If all I've got are my words and my imagination, then I've got to change. I've got to be more proactive, pull the thoughts out of my mind and put them on paper. What good is having two finished screenplays, three started novels, and an idea for a five-book children's series if I'm not going to take the time to write, revise, rewrite, and repeat?

We, as human beings, are supposed to fully immerse ourselves into living in the present. I've taken stock of my life and realized I'm not living; I'm not loving; hell, I've even stopped learning. I can't be paralyzed by fear of the future, of leaping without being certain of a net to catch me if/when I fall, of putting all of myself out there in the world to be criticized and judged and, maybe, deemed worthy. Why is it so hard to do anything of those things? HOW do I do those things? HOW do I allow myself to be vulnerable, open, naked to the world?

At this moment in time, looking at my life the way it is now, I know that, if I want a change, I've got to change. If I want something different, I've got to be different.

Boy, isn't that easier said than done?

QoMV