an open letter to myself: the round tuit club

Dear Self,

You have now been set free from the traditional work setting for two and a half months. You have indulgently slept in and napped, read a luxurious number of books, journaled, traveled, spent time with family and long-lost friends, started a blog, baked and cooked, beach-bummed, played the piano and rediscovered long-lost songs, purged and reorganized your house and over-abundant belongings, reveled in all-night movie marathons with your daughter, and lowered your overall stress level, blood pressure, and desire to leap off a cliff.

Bravo! You have played well.

It is now time, however, to work.

I’m not talking about jumping at the next job that comes along (although they haven’t exactly been knocking down your door); I’m talking about the real work of seeking — the exciting and excruciating work of laying out all of the options and deciding the next path.

Fortunately, some of this has already been occurring while you have been playing. Thank goodness humans, particularly writers, operate in this multitasking manner and repeatedly process those little niggling things — like where you should work and live, whom you should contact, and how you should proceed — while still having fun. Otherwise, you would stew in your indecisive inactivity and go crazy (more so than usual).

By work, I’m also talking about all of the little (and not so little) un-fun and unromantic tasks on your to-do list that you have ignored, glossed over, and otherwise tried to forget. (See your first blog post of June 27.) They are still there, like tiny fruit flies hovering — and as much as you swat at them in annoyance, they are not going to disappear! You must go to the source and just do what needs to be done.

Not when you get around to it — because you already have that.


Now. Now is the time.

I am hereby instating the ROUND TUIT CLUB — in honor of your father’s love of puns and creation of cardboard ‘tuits’ as emblems of no more excuses. (This one is made out of a chunk of wood; you are going to need a three-dimensional tuit to tackle this to-do list.)

Labor Day seems like a fitting time for this inauguration; also, the waning of summer (although technically you have until September 22) and waxing of a new school year has always been a refreshing call to you of renewal.

Don’t get me wrong — procrastination has its proper time and place. After all, by putting off the more unsavory items on your list, you have redirected a more focused energy to some of the other long-overdue things that needed your attention.

But it’s time to get all those annoying little ducks in a row, kid, before you start your next venture.

And here’s a bit of advice: Don’t try to take on all of the ducks at once. That can be really overwhelming. Just take it one duck at a time — one duck a day, if you will. Two ducks on a good day. And every once in a while, when you line up one duck a few more will want to follow. Just go with it.

OK then. Hop to it, tiger, and I promise to end the animal analogies.

hop to it



[Insert tilde here that your computer refuses to generate for some reason.]


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