I need a nag to make me get stuff done.
I start things just fine. It's the finishing that kills me.
For instance, right now I’m on deadline. It’s that time in my writing schedule when someone asks me how I’m doing, and I take it as an act of aggression.
“Just how do you think I’m doing? I haven’t taken a shower in three days. I forgot how to brush my teeth and put on clothes. I'm hoping a car crashes outside my window so I'll finally have an ending to this freaking novel! That’s how I’m doing!”
All of this is accompanied, of course, by a crazed gleam in my eyes. Because I’m not really seeing the person talking to me, I’m seeing the fact that my inner nag failed, once again, to get me anywhere near finished before deadline.
As a mom, I nagged my son all the way through French school (bilingual nagging, even!) and then I nagged him through AP classes and SAT exams and college applications and now, guess what? He doesn't need me to nag him anymore! He now has his own inner nag, and does sensible things like getting his papers done ahead of time, and he's rocking something close to a 4.0 at his university. And he still manages to party.
So, um, why can't I manage to internalize my own nagging in some kind of effective way? Don't know, and I can't figure it out right now because I'm pulling an all-nighter to reach my deadline. I'm a mad writer stuck in my aerie.
And I’m trying not to take the need to write this blog as an act of aggression. I apologize ahead of time for my bad attitude. I’ll be me again in, oh, seventy-eight hours or so.
And after that...feel free to step up and nag. I need it.