Patience is a virtue, possess it if you can.

It’s seldom found in women,

And never found in men.

My grandmother used to say this to me all the time, from a very early age.

I’m not sure if it’s because she could see what an impatient child I was, or if she knew that I would grow into a woman who hated to wait.

I’ve never been content to sit on the sidelines while someone else is doing something. If it interests me, I want to be out there doing it.

In sports, I couldn’t stand watching. I’d be out of my seat, yelling, or more likely, out on the field competing. I may not have been skilled, but I was a “goer”

– giving my last breath to play.

As an adult, I push myself. I often feel lazy, like I should or could do so much more than I do. It doesn’t feel like a competition against an ideal, instead, it’s an inner restlessness that makes me strive a little more.

Sitting is hard, unless it involves mental effort of some kind. Maybe it’s untreated ADHD, maybe personality, but not DOING something makes my skin itch.

Today, I finished revisions on my forth book. I have zero plans to publish it before September, and yet, it could potentially be finished before book three is live on March 31st.

The drive to see these stories come to life is overwhelming, consuming.

I have another eight competing for space in my mind at this very minute.

I tell myself to calm down, repeating the words my grandmother knowingly instilled into my brain.

She was a master at patience, and when I feel the struggle become overwhelming, I sit back and think of her, and feel a blanket of calm temper my drive.

All things in good time.