Motivation in Nostalgia

Last night, I let eight-year-old me take control ... 

Once again, I had found myself staring at my laptop screen for hours trying to force my brain and my hands to work together and make progress on my edits. 

I was seconds away from giving up and doomscrolling in bed until I fell asleep when I had a idea that felt ... silly.

The scared adult part of my brain tried to shut it down immediately. That's embarrassing. It's ridiculous.

But I was alone n my writing room. Nno one was there to judge me. No one was going to make me feel small.

So, I decided to listen to the child in me and see what would happen. 

I shut the door to my writing room (like I used to shut my childhood bedroom door), blared late 90s/early 2000s hits at full volume, and started singing and dancing my heart out.

Then I grabbed coloured pens and began writing my novel's current scenes onto strips of paper. I stuck them onto the back of my writing room door, building a physcial outline I could rearrage, add to, and rethink as I review it.

And it worked.

I got a solid hour of fun, motivated progress before my adult brain crept in again and told the child in me that it was time for bed.

Even though it was for only an hour, I'm proud of myself for choosing play over paralysis. For listening to the child instead of the critic. 

I hope this reconnection I'm building with eight-year-old me continues and helps me live and write a little more freely. 

Keep your eyes peeled for more news on my writing here and on my Instagram!