I’m not sure when I started doing this, but for the past year or so I’ve treated reading books as a reward. If I have a project hanging over my head that I really need to finish I won’t allow myself to start a new book until I’ve finished it. I love reading so in theory this is a great way to keep me on track, but really it just makes me grouchy.
Reading is an escape for me, always has been, and I can get lost in a matter of pages. Screaming kids on a plane? Not in my world. Screaming weirdos on a bus? Well, maybe I hear them, but that goes back to the safety issue I talked about on Friday. I love getting sucked into a world someone else has lovingly created and forgetting about my own life for awhile.
*hums Billy Joel*
So back to my motivation. You’d think that by depriving myself of this joy I’d hurry up and finish my project (in this case my synopsis), right? Well… not so much. Instead I stare longingly at my TBR (to be read) shelf and grumble (internally) about this stupid synopsis.
What’s your motivation when all you want to do is lie on the couch and eat bon bons?
Exciting side note: My mom and I are going to see author David Baldacci tomorrow night! Maybe HE’LL write my synopsis for me.