22 Aug

Normally, having too much to do is awful. A to do list that has over three varieties of “cleaning summat” on it is just the worst – everyone knows that. Especially if the summats that need cleaning are of the terrifying variety, like when you find a pillowcase stuffed behind a bureau and it’s got a mysterious yellowy-green stain on it.

I mean, how did the yellowy-green stuff get there? Did someone die on that pillow? And if they did die, did they turn into a zombie shortly afterwards? Because God knows, no human being could make a stain of that virulent hue. Which means that basically, you’re trapped in your own house with someone who’s somehow hiding the fact that they’re secretly a zombie.

How uncool is that? I’ll tell you how uncool. Very.

But that’s not even the worst thing you can have on an ordinary too-full to do list. What about “email boss you hate”? I can’t even think about that without breaking into a cold sweat. I mean, what if I accidentally slip and write “I hope the secret zombie living in your house suddenly snaps, and eats you”.

It could happen.

And that’s not even getting into all the other mundane things you’ve got to do – all of which require some serious procrastination. I don’t want to tidy my living room/send off a letter/reply to the doctors/go to the toilet. I want to watch the Big Bang Theory forever, instead.

But I’m getting off the point, which in this case is: having too much real life stuff to do is rubbish. But having too much writing stuff to do?

Is secretly orsum.

And yeah, okay, I know. Sometimes it’s massively hard. I’m terrified at the moment, because I’ve promised so much stuff to people that it’s bordering on some sort of weird strain of insanity. I’ve set myself shorts to write and blog posts to do and edits to finish and novels to start writing and novellas to sub and God only knows what else.

But every time I start to feel overwhelmed and exhausted, I think of this time last year. I think of this time the year before that. I think of five years ago, when the most exciting thing to happen to me was discovering Portia Da Costa had a blog.

And I LOVE it. I love falling asleep with the laptop on my knee. I love Husband calling this my “office job” because I work real hours on it now – more than real hours on it, in fact. And they’re hours I have to put in, because if I don’t I won’t meet all of my deadlines and oh my God I’m a workaholic.

I’ve actually become a workaholic. I didn’t even know there really was such a thing. Of course, I’ve always worked hard at the jobs I’ve had. I hate it when people leave stuff for other people to do, and can never allow work to go unfinished. But to me, none of that suggests a state of aholic.

Aholic implies forgetting to go to the toilet, which I frequently do. It suggests that I’m going to end up with a beard in a gutter somewhere, crying for just one more fix of Microsoft Word. I need to go to meetings, meetings where we’ll all sit around, hollow-eyed and sort of looking like Gollum, clutching at our laptops until our laptops beg to be let out of this co-dependent relationship.

But they can’t be let out. Because when I’m not bashing on them until they cry, I’m busy using them for my fix of Sims 3. And though that paints an ugly, ugly picture of me and my laptop boyfriend, I can’t help it, okay?

I’m not a workaholic. I’m a writeaholic. And oh, how I love it.

4 Responses to “Writeaholic”

  1. naramalone August 23, 2011 at 6:08 am #

    You always make me laugh, Charlotte. I think you just described my life.

    • themightycharlottestein August 25, 2011 at 4:02 pm #

      For a second there, I thought I was alone. But hooray, I’m not! Man, that would have been a sad WA meeting without you.

  2. shannonemmel August 23, 2011 at 10:05 am #

    I love you Charlotte…Plain and simple.

    Thanks AGAIN for your unique perspective…and always a chuckle!



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