A few weeks not working now, and still I feel the privilege of getting up in the morning with no rush to shower and leave. Or should I say the rush of waking up early and not having anywhere to go or be? The theory is that the days are dedicated to finishing a short story collection, otherwise known as my thesis project, but I'm finding it far too easy for days off to be construed as oodles of free time to hang out, myself being the worst offender. Today for instance.
Breakfast cooked and apartment straightened by 9am. Went out to Prospect Park to run with a friend. We ran for an hour. We got a slice of pizza. We took the long way to the subway, and it's 1pm before I'm back home and ready to write. Panic sets in. The morning's gone. Yesterday was spent on taxes and long walks with the dog, very little writing.
As soon as I get home, another friend who is never in the city and who I rarely see, calls to say she's heading into the city. Do I want to get together around two or three? I see the day quickly draining away. I draw the line. I explain to my friend that I frittered the morning, I can't see her, although I promised otherwise when we spoke over the weekend. I worry that she doesn't believe me. Work? But I don't have a job. She lets me off easy. She thinks I'm a terrible friend.
I write for three hours straight. I finish a revision on a story. I feel relieved enough to turn my email on. I log onto iChat. Email and iChat can consume a half-day in a snap. There are so many people I don't see. I don't return emails. I am a bad person. I am an absent friend.
Someone I know asked me to edit his book last week. He didn't believe me when I said I was sorry but didn't feel like I had the capacity right now. Not even to read a chapter? How stuck up.
I've been struggling with a revision to another story that's not getting anywhere and everyone I show it to disagrees. My thesis is due in 6.5 weeks. When I stop to think about it, I've got a considerable amount done for thesis. About 50 pages (four stories) I feel good about, and two more stories to crack.
Forget the guilt. Forget that I don't ever want to make plans.
