Thursday, September 6, 2007
I couldn't take it anymore. I had been working nonstop trying to get a draft done, telling myself the cleaning would wait, unpacking the rest of Turpentine would wait, throwing out the candy wrappers and the scrap paper and emptying the trash would wait. I couldn't file the papers. I needed the research notes. Every spare moment I could get into the office was for writing. But tonight, I had an hour. I had already written for six and the mess stress was killing me.
“First comes thought; then organization of that thought, into ideas and plans; then transformation of those plans into reality. The beginning, as you will observe, is in your imagination.”
Napoleon Hill (American author, 1883-1970)