I'm finishing my memoir.
I don't say this as some kind of heavy, "Oh God, this is so stressful—I'm finishing it now, I'm doing the heavy lifting" sort of statement.
I'm telling you that I've decided to finish. And I really am doing it. I'm making progress every day (even weekends).
Deciding like that created all kinds of different actions that feel a lot like a ritualistic dance, praying for rain, conjuring up magic that did nothing other than make me fall in love with my project again.
When I'm finished (he he) I'm going to write and tell you all about how I conjured up that magic.
Here's a hint, though: The decision was everything.
Because the decision came from NO MORE EXCUSES, no more reasons why I can't, and just claiming it.
The decision made me stop inflicting the kind of injury upon myself that can only be made by the 1,000 cuts that are the mind of a creative person (i.e., changing your mind every day, coming up with idea after idea, chasing your tail, etc, etc, et cetera).
Okay, back to work.