Daydreaming

a.k.a. today’s method of procrastination.

I have a huge propensity for daydreaming.  It’s probably my next best tool for, and skill following, my ability to procrastinate. Today I am daydreaming not just as a method for avoiding whatever the hell it is I’m supposed to be doing today (I can’t remember off hand what though I’ve been putting it off for too long), but also the one thing at work I hate above all others, my quarterly performance review.

You see, it doesn’t  matter how many of these things pass me by in a flurry of “well done’s” or “carry on as you are’s” I always approach them with a growing sense of  dread.  Between being initially told of the date & time of my review, and the arrival of that date and time I spend way too much time obsessing about how the whole thing is going to go, and thinking up responses to all the different things that might get said to me, and how all possible the conversations will pan out. I’ve spent so long doing it now that, I must  have  envisaged every single scenario there is, (apart from any good ones – because they’ll never happen)  so if they come up with something I haven’t worked out how to respond to then fair play to them for thinking outside the box.

That said, in order to try and stop myself from thinking about things that stress me out, I have spent the rest of my time today thinking off all the lovely things that could happen to me that would get me out of this place, and how I would pass on the news to those around me.

I have imagined the usual, you know winning the lottery type thing, and thought about how I would stay at work until the day someone pissed me off a tad too much and I could just turn round and go ‘you know what? I don’t need to be here, here’s my notice.’ But then that wouldn’t really make any difference to the management around this place, they’d probably just be a bit ticked that their overtime budget was going to up for a while, as they recruited and trained someone new.

So I’ve been daydreaming about the whole book thing.  When my brother-in-law died tragically at 31, the same age as I was at the time, I promised myself that I would have my first manuscript completed by the time I was 35.  I turned 35 eight weeks ago, and I have nothing other than two chapters of a trashy erotic novel that I wrote back in 2008, to show for the last four years.  Today however, at least in my head, I have four consecutive manuscripts under my belt with a serial character, which I have just been told by my highly paid agent, have been contracted in a ridiculous six figure deal by a major British publishing house, and an option on the film rights, from an American film outfit.  Oh and I’ve just managed to drop that fact into a conversation at my performance review.

Would be just great wouldn’t it?  Couldn’t you just imagine the looks on their faces as I dropped out that stupendous little piece of news to them? Well it made me smile, and certainly kept my mind occupied for a while.
Unfortunately, it is nothing but a daydream. It’s hard enough in this life to get an agent, let alone get a book deal, and it does generally help to have at least *written* a book before any of that happens.

So, that said, I’m off to start writing my book.  Or at least I will be, when I get home from work, and I’ve finished filing all my ‘How to write a novel’ books in alphabetical order, by author. 😉

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