Did I promise to write for fifteen minutes a day a while back? Without editing? Just, you know, write fifteen minutes, and post? Every single day? To work toward my goal of … something, I can’t remember now, and I guess it stopped being important.
Seems like I promised that a while back.
It probably goes without saying that I haven’t done that.
I mean, I stuck to it for a while and then life happened, as it tends to do. Two job changes in the last twelve months combined with a whole lot of other roller coasters I didn’t really want to ride and, well, here we are, no further ahead in my writing career than I was a year ago.
It’s 4-something a.m. central standard time and I’m wide awake because this dang blog is waking me up and reminding me that I’ve committed to do something and haven’t kept my word, so here I am, churning out my promised fifteen minutes so I can go the heck back to sleep.
So about this word, “entitled.”
I was on a training call the other night, and this very wise person listed entitlement as one of three reasons you’re not succeeding.
I don’t remember right now, at 4-something a.m. central standard time, what the other two reasons were because it’s the middle of the night, though I did take notes.
I sat there listening, and taking notes, and arrogantly thought to myself, “well, none of those really apply to me. LORD KNOWS I AM NOT ENTITLED.”
And I’m not.
I don’t expect anyone to hand me things.
I don’t expect anyone to do it for me.
I work hard. Way hard. Way, way harder than most people. And I have always worked, two jobs most of my adult life, even.
I AM NOT ENTITLED.
But then why is this word stuck in my head?
Because it’s slowly dawning on me that maybe I am.
Not entitled in the sense that I want someone to do it for me.
But entitled in the sense that I feel like I should be at a different level than I am, I should be the one winning the awards, I should be the one revered and admired for my accomplishments.
I don’t want to be seen starting small.
I don’t want to be seen at the beginning.
I want to be at the top of the leader board, and I want it now, and if I’m honest…
…I really want it without doing the work to get there.
Yeah. Maybe I am entitled.
Maybe that’s why I haven’t stuck to my plan to write for fifteen minutes a day.
Because what’s gonna get churned out will be less than perfect, unedited, with most likely a teeny, tiny audience reading it, IF any audience at all, and, well, it won’t be Pioneer Woman, and if I can’t be Pioneer Woman, why am I doing this? Because maybe… deep down… I sorta feel entitled to be Pioneer Woman…
without putting in the work.
That’s fifteen minutes, y’all.
And it’s 4:35am.
See you tomorrow.