Full confession, I am a chronic self sabotager and procrastinator of the highest order. I’ve had both Book Club Part 3 and Confessions of a Mad Mooer sitting, ready, waiting to go to the copy editor and haven’t sent them. Every time I go to send them I have an anxiety attack, feel like I’m going to have a heart attack, and my stomach fills with acid. I’ve read through them both many times, I am happy with them, others have read them, likewise happy, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to hit send. This week I did it. I did it by setting myself a ridiculously hard goal to achieve which has lit a fire under the seat of my pants… I’m currently pantsless with a scorched A.
I have a dream, to hand the great JByrne a print copy of Confessions of a Mad Mooer, my recap of my time in the psychiatric hospital with postnatal depression, at the final taping of the Book Club ABC for this year. And by give, I mean leap over security and throw it at her screaming, “I love you,” before dashing off ninja style into the night. It’s in December. Luckily I engaged my cover artist months ago, before the dread sunk in, so I’m not completely toast. But given my self sabotagesque approach to life I have started a support group for myself on FB called Self Sabotage and Procrastination to get me through.
Yes, you read right, I’ve started a support group, not for the good of a marginalised group, for myself. I am a wretched toad of a thing. It’s a place we’re people can yell encouraging things at me, suggest blurbs, tell my cover artist that she’s a genius, read the draft, and generally be nice, to make me feel good and not dissolve into a puddle of self loathing.
So… hopefully in December I’ll have some pretty books that you can buy AND high self esteem. Wouldn’t that be nice? (Crawls off to corner and sobs.)