Is this how you spell busyness? Is this even a word? Well, it is now. And I just coined the phrase “perceived busyness.” It means to be in a state of mind in which you consider yourself to be busy; however, this is a matter of self-conjecture. Ignore that which you think makes you busy and you will no longer be busy.

This is what I’ve been doing. Writing is a strange past-time, freelance writing is an even stranger past-time. This is because you are making your own schedule and deadlines. If you miss them, no one cares.

Training Ryder at Cluadia's

Me, I’ve been blowing off writing tasks for the past few weeks. This past spring, I blew off writing tasks for over a month. Then, and more recently, I became less busy. For sure, the anxiety that accompanied having so many self-assignments then fell by the wayside.

My theory is that I turned my back on what needed to be done because my subconscious needed to do some problem solving. Is this just a rationalization? I’m not sure. What I am sure of is that when this happens, I return to the drawing board with a stronger writing-wise sense of purpose.

For example, this morning I decided that I would resume working on marketing If Wishes were Horses by writing Breakaway Books a query letter. I wrote this letter and sent it to the editors as an attachment. I am, tomorrow, going to go over it again and then send it to them via snail mail. I will also send this letter elsewhere. I think it was quite good.

This was all I was planning on doing. But then I gritted my teeth and cranked out a second query letter. I sent this one to Trafalgar Square Press. It’s entitled Breathe! I proposed to write about the subject of breathing, my audience being horse people. I said that as of yet, no one had written a book in which the subject is breathing, exclusively.

In essence, I tossed my fishing lines back in the water. I might get a bite, and then again, I might not. What is most important is that the lines are in the stream.

I must now maintain momentum. I have to continue to attempt to market If Wishes were Horses. I am waiting on Pete to finish reading If You Come to a Fork in the Road, then I will put in his recommended changes. I also need to write some promised reviews of Horse Brain/Human Brain. In writing this last paragraph, I began to feel my anxiety level rise. How, I wondered, am I going to find the time to do all this? See, this is an instance of perceived busyness. I could, tomorrow avoid the inevitable angst by bypassing writing and instead focus on the ongoing dog and pony show. Or I could clean the cabin. There are always other options.

Today I did strike a good balance. I both wrote and spent time with the animals. Such days are rare. Such days are the way it’s supposed to be.

Next: 218. 8/8/20: Ferris Wheel Imager