I don't always share my writing space, but when I do it will be with amazing thought leaders and writers like this woman. Enjoy.
-Stephanie
Hustle. Grind. Boss Moves.
At one point, these words ruled my multi-tiered life; I’m a wife, a mother, a dayjob executive, and a nighttime/weekend romance writer. I had a singular ambition: to be the best at all of these roles simultaneously. I found out the hard way that there was nothing singular or attainable about that goal.
It was a standard day for me six months ago: I had arrived to my dayjob fifteen minutes late because I was up past midnight writing about imaginary people having sex. My kids had moved like molasses in January that morning, making my standard five-minutes-late threshold stretch. I was annoyed as I slammed myself into my desk chair and booted up my computer. As the morning wore on with meetings, I couldn’t take my mind off of a number of pressing issues. In no particular order throughout the day, I thought about:
- the major plothole developing in a book that was due for edits in a matter of days.
- my son’s struggles with fractions, wondering if he’d ever make it out of fifth grade in one piece.
- the week that had passed without having sex with my husband because we were both so dog tired by the end of the day.
- how to get my daughter out of my bedroom so I could have the sex I was too tired to have.
- when I would find time to exercise again because the plothole that was developing in my book monopolized my spare time…which led me back to my original worry.
My mind was a mess of cluttered anxieties, a fracture of a million pieces. It felt like the many aspects of my life were all vying for one hundred percent of my attention at once. To an outsider, that sounds like insanity. To me – the Type A creative who needed to have control over everything – it was the price I had to pay to be great.
So if I was supposed to feel great, why did I end up crying in my boss’s office that afternoon?
Hustle. Grind. Boss Moves.
So, check it: I’ll be the last person to ever tell you not to aim high. I self-published ten novels in less than three years. I’ve dedicated blog posts on perfecting the side hustle. Productivity is a specialty of mine.
But if you’re running out of steam and inspiration from burning the candle at both ends, what are you producing?
After my good cry with my understanding boss (a busy woman herself), I re-evaluated how I got there. I talked to my husband, the man who had a front row to seat to my ambitions. My mother gave me some real talk and told me to get some rest. My writer friends sympathized, understanding how creativity tends to consume the artist. But I didn’t want to be consumed with my creativity. I wanted to be a good wife and mother, a dedicated worker at my dayjob, and still find nuggets of time to write. In short, I wanted it all.
But I realized that the ‘all’ had to come in a smaller, realistic package. Here’s what I did:
- I started with my time management. Many of my writer friends raved about the Passion Planner, a leather bound blessing that helped me focus on singular goals instead of a hoard of them at once. I began mindmapping my goals, helping me get down to the meat of my dreams and the tasks involved to reach them.
- I learned that No was a complete sentence and that I shouldn’t be afraid to say it more often. I stopped doing busy work – tasks I thought would help my side hustle but really just ate away at my limited time, leaving me unfulfilled and sapping my motivation.
- I listened to my mind, body, and spirit instead of a to-do list. Don’t get me wrong: I’m nothing without my checklists. That’s my personality and how I best move in the world. I found, however, that adding aspects like exercise, meditation, and divination practices enhanced my personal perspective, leading to making decisions that are best for my well-being.
- I lived in The Now. The past stopped being an anchor and the future stopped being a focus. Appreciation for the present and embracing my current trials and triumphs eased my mind.
Hustle. Grind. Boss Moves.
These words live in me. Motivation is my lifeforce, for sure. But, unlike before, I know when enough is enough. I know my preliminary signs of burnout long before I reach the breaking point. As my life evolves, I’ll learn more of my body’s signals. There’s a comfort in knowing what my real singular ambition is: happiness.
Eliza David is an erotic romance author living in Iowa City by way of Chicago. She enjoys reading Jackie Collins, bingeing on Sex & the City marathons, and indulging in the occasional order of cheese fries. You can often find her on Facebook and Twitter talking all things men and manuscripts. Follow her blog at www.elizadavidwrites.com.