Chug...chug...*engine sputter*...chug

Yeah.

So I am on week two of blogging everyday (or attempting to), and I've totally ignored the guidelines I originally planned to follow. Each day's post was supposed to be based on a theme or a question. I've decided that my latest depressing saga of rejection and anxiety is more important.

So here we are.

I am one day behind my deadline of 10 pages for my MediaBistro course. I am on page 3, and boy, is this sucky. When I wrote my first novel (which I am editing at the same time I'm writing the second), I basically had no outline, no idea of what was going to happen to the character. I vomited every page and then went back and did many revisions. That was not fun. So, with book two, I've decided to be much more mindful of my sentences in relation to character and plot. Every sentence, every word, must be carefully evaluated.

It has taken me two days to write three pages. Oy.

The good news is that so far, I am carrying a 4.0 in my MS in Publishing program. Perfectionist? Yes. Burned out? Yes. Do I want to run for the hills and avoid civilization and deadlines and thinking right now? Yes.

Today I was told by a friend that I have too much on my plate--and I know, in theory, she is right. I do. But I can't blame anyone but myself, because if I didn't push myself hard I'd be whining about how unfulfilled and meaningless my life feels. (The funny part about that is I still feel like that, busy or not!) I've always pushed myself to be better, to prove to myself that I can do impossible things.

Why? Because my childhood left a very distinctive trauma on me that really stunted my ability to be a teenager, enjoy my undergrad, cut loose. I spent a lot of time in emotional ER, so to speak, to stop the bleeding from what happened. I didn't have time to focus on awesome grades or socializing or even functioning like a normal human being. So when I enrolled in my MFA at age 25, I wanted to make up for lost time. And I achieved so much that I didn't think I had the strength to do (while going through a divorce, btw.) This drive has continued to my second master's program. I love what I'm learning, and it is damn hard work, but I know I'll be proud in the end.

I told my boyfriend that my weekends are now devoted to just writing. I can't waste my time doing other things while I have not one, but two important projects to tackle. Because seriously, I'm *never* going to get an agent if I keep wasting time.

Tick tock....