Do you ever wish you were obsessive-compulsive? Just a little?
Because if I were, I’d be a little more like my friend V- who is in fabulous shape because she can’t not run her 50-60 miles per week. Or, I’d be like R- whose home is organized, efficient, labeled, and clean, and who finds home-improvement projects relaxing. Or, maybe T-, who sticks to his to-do lists and has grown a successful business and recently bought a dream house.
But I’m not like that. I know how to relax. I relax too easily. I relax at the drop of a hat.
Of course, I’m thinking of all this in terms of my writing. I could say that I’m obsessive-compulsive about meeting deadlines — that’s the good student in me. I’ve got that on my side.
The thing is, what if you’re a writer with no deadlines at the moment? That’s where a little obsessive-compulsiveness would come in handy. Just a little, you know? It’s like the phase I went through in high school where I wished I’d grow a tapeworm, just a little tapeworm, so I’d lose weight. I’d have loved that.
Now I wonder, how can I grow a little obsessive-compulsiveness? It’s not like I can run around barefoot and pick it up. And hanging out with my OCD (just a little) friends doesn’t help — the reverse actually; hanging with them can tire me out. I can set up self-imposed deadlines…
Yeah, right! Like that’s ever worked!
This all comes down to a fear I have: Are the only writers who succeed those who don’t know how to relax? The OCDs? The workaholics (because what is a workaholic except someone with a little OCD)? If so, I’m hosed.
You can see why this is a crazy-maker thought. I’m not that nuts, am I?