I’m never so disciplined in something as when I have a bigger, more important thing I’m putting off.
It’s uncanny how often this happens.
Weed the front garden.
Can’t—got words to write.
And write I do.
I think what’s so tricky is that there’s good that comes out of it, so I begin to believe that I’m really disciplined and not procrastinating after all.
If I get writing done–which was certainly on my list–then I excuse the gardening I missed, telling myself things that are mostly true, like, after all, I can’t do everything.
I’ve noticed, though, the problem with this kind of thinking occurs later down the line. Later on, when I’m writing against a deadline, and I don’t seem to be getting anywhere closer to finished, yet, meanwhile, other smaller things keep getting done.
What happened to my discipline?
Nothing really. Because it wasn’t discipline. To put it plainly: I was just lying to myself. But it was delicious enough that I didn’t have a problem swallowing it.
I heard a great line once: all lies come into the open; some now, some later. Or something like that. The point was, fix it now, or, eventually, someone (or something) will.
What seems to be true enough is this: discipline is hard. But every successful person has gone through the same hard stuff. Day in, day out.
I suppose, in this way, the company is good.
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