I forget when I read this or if I read this or if someone just told me or if I took something entirely unrelated and transformed it to fit my own warped psyche. But there's this notion, this precept that's been driving me forward the past few months: specifically, just because I accomplished something yesterday doesn't mean that I'm off the hook today.
The "What's next?" theory of life, I suppose. It's a little bit tiring, though.
This is what they don't tell you about "write every day" -- not only does your work suffer if you fail to write every day, but you suffer, especially if you let your sense of self-worth get a little too tied to the fact that occasionally, you can string words together in a manner which has the potential to please others. On days when I can't seem to manage that, I get frustrated and angry. I skip the gym. I drink tequila. I watch bad TV. I mope.
Lately, though, things have been going pretty well. Last night and yesterday I finished writing some things, prose no less, and they were emailed away and that's a load off my mind. But now it's today, and I'm starting from scratch again. Projects to start, projects to finish. Today, I'm outlining, and revising outlines, and that's just as exciting as it sounds.
But once I get it done, then I'll be ready to have fun tonight. And I'll be ready for tomorrow. For the next thing.
Now, to continue learning about how to rob a bank.