One of the difficulties in writing a book about your life is that life doesn’t stop and allow you to finish said book before flinging more adventures, lessons, and interesting opportunities your way.
I’ve written before about how my new book, entitled ‘My Exile Lifestyle,’ has been the most difficult to write of the five total I’ve put together, and now that it’s written — all I have left to do is make edits, add links and lay it out — the hurdle I’m encountering is the very thing I’m writing the book about: life is just too damn interesting to sit inside and tediously re-read (for the tenth time) a book I wrote.
I’ve somewhat come to terms with this, however, despite the productive side of my brain’s tenacious whispering in my mental-ear. “Shouldn’t you head home and finish editing a few chapters instead of meeting with friends?” it says. “Who needs friends anyway?”
But I don’t listen.
I’m in Iceland for less than one month longer before I leave, and there’s so much left to see and do that I have to make use of the whole day to fit everything in, sneaking in bits of work when I can (and I mean whole day: I’m sitting at an office downtown at the moment, answering a few emails and writing this blog post — I just snapped the photo for this post out the office’s window — would you believe it’s midnight?! Way too easy to work 24 hours a day here because of the continuous light this time of year), but mostly enjoying what’s left of my rendezvous with the land of ice and snow.
I consider this enjoyment a responsibility that I have to myself. I want to finish up my book, and I will, but I want to continue to live a life I feel is worth writing about even more, and that’s the deciding factor when I’m torn between staying out late and heading home early.
You might say I’ve written it into my job description. “Make everything you do every day worth the time you spend on it.”
I guess I’d better get back to it: I don’t want to have to fire myself.