So I wasn’t sick. I wasn’t sick all week. Oh, who am I kidding. I had a cold. And I was so exhausted after not being sick that this week I slept in every day and ended up writing only 2 pages toward the final 80 due in less than a week. So you could say I am s-c-r-e-w-e-d. I don’t want to have to ask for an extension, but I feel like I lost so much time… I’ll see how this weekend goes.
I need to reach deep down inside me and find that motivated, driven person, drag her out, and force her to work like a maniac this weekend.
She’s in there.
I know it.
Somewhere.
Soon, so very soon, this will all be over. I mean, sure, there will be revisions, but you will be proud of me, I am proud of me, that I turned down two freelance writing projects, one just yesterday. It’s time to remember what I wanted from life. I mean, what was the point of this and this and this and this and this, what is the point of anything really, if I am not in this for myself, writing what I want to be writing?
I’ve been scared; that’s what it is. I don’t want to be rejected again, so my defense has been to just stop trying. I’m embarrassed to admit that, but I can see it clearly now.
I want to try to start trying again. I’m so easily crushed—it’s easier than it sounds.
There is definitely no dishonour in asking for an extension when needed. Good luck.