Running with My Hair on Fire

As you know, I've been writing like a mad woman for the past three years. Between the two kids, two jobs, two dogs, and now two books, I've averaged 4-5 hours of sleep a night. Every spare moment I've had has been dedicated to either writing or promoting. Over Christmas, my friends and family started voicing concerns that I was pushing myself too hard. After all, I'm not getting any younger. And so, begrudgingly, I agreed to slow down.

I've tried to take some time, to do something to "relax". I've slept until I woke naturally, suffered through mindless TV shows, and forced myself to go to social functions. I've window shopped until I'm blue in the face, and I've even lingered after meetings when I normally would be the first out the door. In short, this past month I've tried to live like a normal person.

I hate it.

Here's the thing: I'm an all-or-nothing kind of gal. I'm not productive when I move at a normal pace. I find that either I'm running with my hair on fire, or I'm a lethargic ball of humanity. Given the two options, I'd rather be running.

And so, I'm starting tonight. I'm turning off the blasted idiot box, I'm putting away the books I've read countless times, and I'm going back to Kailmeyra. I'll work well into the night and get up before the crack of dawn. I'll have leftovers for dinner, drink iced tea until I'm drowning in it, and get behind on the wash. I'll sit in silence, allowing the quiet to seep into my bones. I'll type until my back aches, and I am mentally exhausted ...  

And I'll love every minute of it.