I was getting a bit frantic. For the past months, I’ve been immersed in writing my newest book, which I’d planned to launch in October.
I’d promised my publisher that they’d have the final manuscript by the end of the summer, but it was becoming clear that it would take longer.
As I looked at my September calendar, I gasped even deeper.
I had a girlfriend trip planned. And I was going to NYC to see my first Broadway play ever. Add in some family health issues, and I was in major overwhelm.
But the new book wasn’t the only thing on my mind. I needed to make major updates to my website, produce new videos, and plan the book launch.
My poor overworked brain couldn’t handle all these projects at once. I felt like I could start hyperventilating at any minute.
Then it hit me …
This deadline was completely self-imposed. I was the one who set the due date. I was the one who believed everything could be in place by then.
In reality, there was no good reason it all had to be done by then. Yet I was pushing myself like it was a life-or-death issue.
Finally, I gave myself the gift of time. Not only would it ensure my own sanity, but it would also enable me to do my best work. It’ll be here in early January.
Questions for You
P.S. My new book is focused on inspiring positive change in an evolving world.