I'm working on my book proposal, which is very exciting. It's weird and rewarding for me to start thinking of myself as a professional writer, though that's obviously the goal; my agent is ostensibly going to shop the proposal around to publishers once I have written it. (And yeah, it's weird and rewarding for me to have an agent.)
The book is supposed to be about how I threw away a life that didn't fit me and worked to build one that does. As my friend Anahi would say, it's kind of a sunshine and babies story, uplifting, inspirational, motivational. So the proposal reflects that: how I went through some dark times but came out the other side feeling far more fulfilled and joyful with the life I eventually constructed. Sounds nice, eh?
The conundrum is that while I felt that way about my life when I finished the first draft back in February or March, I so don't feel that way about it at the moment, while I'm trying to meet a self-imposed deadline for the second draft. I may have hinted that this was happening: I'm going through a rough patch, for a variety of reasons, and I'm feeling sort of fraudulent about trying to be upbeat and use language that would convince readers that they, too, can live happily ever after if they just believe they are worth the effort and trust their guts and clap their hands and believe in fairies! I will probably go back to believing that eventually, but be forewarned that you shouldn't try to convince me of it right now. It could get ugly. Fairy dust everywhere.
I'm phoning in a lot of things that are usually very important to me. I won't say what, because I reserve the right not to incriminate myself, despite the fact that I have done it many many times here over the years. Plus, it would take too much effort to list the things I'm slacking on. Suffice it to say that everything is taking me about twice as long as it normally would, and I'm being about half as effective. I'm sure you can guess at some of the things I'm neglecting without me specifying anyway.
As always, my timing is impeccable. The Mundial (world gi tournament) starts on Thursday and I compete next Sunday. My parents are arriving on Thursday as well, to visit and to watch me compete. So I should be concentrating on training and getting ready to show them a good time. But I can't bring myself to fold my laundry, let alone scout out good restaurants. Sleeping is manageable, though; I seem to be able to do that at the drop of a hat.
I'll snap out of it eventually, and I guess it's good that I can see the humor in my situation even while I'm living through it. And I know that you have to go through some bad times to be able to see how great the good times are; without that comparison, how would you know?
But that doesn't mean I have to handle it with aplomb--or unwrinkled clothes.