“Edit a chapter,” the nagging part of my brain tells me, every day, until I’ve edited one. It used to be, “Write a chapter,” and soon enough, I imagine, it will be, “Promote the book,” and then back to, “Write a chapter,” again, when I start History Maps 4, or the first one of a different story.
Today has been busy. We lost a cat, found the cat, I did two lots of shopping, delivered one daughter to college, collected said daughter from college and then took two daughters to work. The house is begging for my attention and there are some good friends I haven’t seen or contacted for months. And all the while, “Edit a chapter,” was nagging away in my head. I’ve done it now, and the voice has gone quiet. Until tomorrow.
I don’t know what causes that motivating nag within me. It wasn’t always there and for years, I would leave projects unfinished, unedited, and unpromoted. But those were the years of young children (I had lots of those years) and the nag was probably different, then. “Change the nappy,” “Tidy the house,” “Clean the bathroom,” and so on. Jobs that either do themselves, now they’re so well programmed into me, or no longer need to be done.
It’s not even just the nag. It’s the feeling that things aren’t right until the job is done. I can’t relax, can’t get on with the day, with a clear conscience.
Did I put it there? Did I programme it in, like the mundane housework, now on autopilot? I think I must have done and a good thing it is too, albeit annoying sometimes, when I want to have a day off.