I don’t know where this post went, but surprise! It’s back.
I have a moral failing, a vice I indulge in more than I should admit.
I am a jealous and envious writer. I see so many people hashtagging their writing sprints (#amwriting, I see you and associate your 7 a.m. tweets with smugness, joyfulness, and productivity). I know so many people writing, designing covers, editing, and launching at breakneck speed. I see so many people I know publishing and being successful at it. (Don’t ask me whatever the hell success is. I know it when I see it.) <span id="selectionBoundary_1572656451114_507372809754794" class="rangySelectionBoundary" style="line-height:0;display:none;"></span>
And I am…not…productive at all. I’m not doing anything thanks to high levels of commitment to a stressful (yet rewarding) job, general anxiety (have you seen the dumpster fire we call this world?), and a laziness associated with burnout.
So I’m going to turn this envy and jealousy into something productive.
I am going to follow the example of The Jealous Curator and turn "jealousy into get-your-ass-back-into-the-studio inspiration." (Well, without the studio. I have an office, but I would have to clean my office and excavate my desk from 10 years of clutter. But same concept.)