Looking back I would say that I have made a lot of excuses. The only really honest reason is probably the fear surrounded with not completing something that I start. I remember birthdays coming and going and saying, ok, this is the year.. and that year would pass and still the book was only an outline on the paper. I probably have at least 10 books outlined and journaled and put away in my basement.
What is going to push me to start an finish my book project? Perhaps it will be that I want a memoir to give my friend's girls when they are old enough to want to know about their Mom. Or maybe it will be the one gift that I can leave behind for my own children and grandchildren?
In this day of reality TV and fast-paced computer stories is there room for another novel about life? Who cares. It isn't about what other people want anyway. I am not the people pleasing Momma anymore. There is only one person who has to like what I write and that is ME.
About a month ago my boss cut my hours at work to 3 days a week. At first I was mortified, worried about whether I would have enough money to pay bills, and how can they possibly survive without me? Now that a month has passed, I love working only 3 days a week. So far I am doing ok moneywise and adjusting to having less disposable income.
