"Devil, you can go to hell!"
That was my seminal moment this morning: yelling that phrase at the top of my lungs while racing home before picking up the kids from school.
My word choice made me laugh out loud. What prompted such an outburst?
I had called a fellow writer friend for some encouragement. Today is my first day to truly focus on my writing career (I plan to use the time when the kids are in school to write and pursue publishing). I had just finished several hours staring at a blank screen, during which time I managed to eek out one measly outline for my new book. No, not even an outline - a draft of an outline. All sorts of negative thoughts were running through my head. I felt exhausted, fried, and generally discouraged. So, I called this friend to check in and see if he could give me some pointers. Also, I just wanted to speak to someone who's been there.
He was incredibly helpful and encouraging. I felt better almost instantly. But every time we started to dig a little deeper into some nitty-gritty advice, my phone would drop the call. This happened five times before I finally gave up and yelled: "D--" Well, you get the idea.
Though the outburst was a bit silly, it was also heartfelt. I needed that encouragement as much as a two-year-old boy needs a bath. And I was in the process of getting that need met when something kept cutting the source off. I was angry, righteously so. My anger rekindled my energy, so here I am telling you all about it.
The point? I'm writing, which is exactly what I'm meant to do. Negative thoughts be damned. And devil, well, you know exactly where to go. Best be on your way, dear heart, because I'm not listening any more.