'We would be sorry if our wishes were gratified.' Aesop.
'Beware, my lord! Beware lest heaven hate you enough to hear your prayers!' (French novel, 1881)
'When the gods wish to punish us they answer our prayers.' (Oscar Wilde).
We can't say they didn't warn us. Yet how many times did the words, 'I wish I had more time!' pass our lips? With an irony that the most sadistic satirist couldn't better, we've got our wish. Now we have time. Lots of it.
I can remember when I started writing I had so many demands on my time that I could write only in short snatches - a couple of hours, here and there, if I was lucky. A long, uninterrupted session with my new book was an almost unimaginable luxury.
When we went on holiday my treat was to be allowed to get up at six when no one else was allowed to come downstairs till nine. This was when we had a favourite French gite that we went to for years; it had a wonderful terasse looking out over a peaceful valley. It was chilly at that time with just the first light of dawn and I sat working with a rug over my lap as the bats went home to roost in the abri - Mmme la Voisine thought I was crazy, shaking her head as she handed fresh peaches over the wall. The valley would turn golden before me as the sun came up while the only interruptions as I scribbled as fast as I could to get the story out of my head and on to the laptop would be the calls of the golden orioles, the tree-creeper to watch on the ash in front of me and occasionally the kee of a Bonelli's eagle that would have me jumping up with my binoculars to see it as it regularly patrolled its patch.
Today, there's no reason why I shouldn't spend eight hours working on my new book. But I won't. Will you?
We all complain about stress, but psychologists tell us that a certain amount of stress is good for us. It's usually what prompts us to action and when it's removed we're at risk of that medieval mental illness, accidie, defined as spiritual or mental sloth.
'Granting our wish is one of fate's saddest jokes,' said James Russell Lowell.
And remember WW Jacobs' The Monkey's Paw.
6 comments:
Mon dieu! That's it. "...we're at risk of that medieval mental illness, accidie, defined as spiritual or mental sloth."
Accidie. Spiritual or Mental sloth. Thank you, Aline, for naming it. I feel better already.
My pleasure! Human nature doesn't really change.
I'm amazed at my loss of mental energy. I read a lot and watch too much TV. This morning I was determined to act like a responsible human being again. So far, it's working.
You are right, Aline. The more time you have, the harder it is to get things done. One of the paradoxes of life and hence the saying, 'If you want something done, ask a busy person.'
I find it really ahrd to focus, without thinking, 'I wonder what's on the news' and flipping over to see. And wondering if the delivery this afternoon will actually bring all the things we've ordered... Unlikely, based on experience.
At least I learned a great new word. Love IT. Describes my indolence perfectly. I've redone my three book covers. New blurbs for 9 books in series. Working with book designer on 4th book cover. Getting ready to ship off a finished previous manuscript to my editor. Have not written one new word on my new book. UGH!! What is the matter with me. Just read the first 1/3rd of the book stuck in the middle. AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! Pinning ideas to Pinterest for series. Yes, a beautiful word... accidie describes my fake busy tasks. Feed the dog. Walk the dog. Go shop for groceries only once this month. $5 in gas for the month. Take a shower. Do laundry. Do dishes. Eat leftovers. Read books. Watch webinars. Paint the hallway and entrance.
Sort Tupperware with no lids, match those that do have lids. Cleaned leftovers from two weeks ago. Changed out winter and summer clothes. Zooming! Writing comments. Where is writing in this list? Grammarly informed me I wrote close to 5k words this week, really? Sigh. ACCIDIEEEEE!
Post a Comment