Tell us your tried and true techniques for focusing when that deadline looms and you need to get work done. In other words, how do you avoid wasted days and wasted nights?
If it is writing we are speaking about than I don’t think one can be a writer without enjoying each step of the process. If it requires research there must be a certain amount of joy and satisfaction attached to it. Certainly keeping in mind the finished product is important, but it is like a carpenter; he may relish seeing the house finished, but he has to enjoy driving nails also.
Yet there are times when something is or has become a drudgery. I say nothing else gets started until this is finished. Also often when throwing myself into something that appears to be a drudgery in the beginning, it often becomes something of which I’m quite fond of in the end.
Here is such a project. It is my 8th episode of The Match. I really enjoyed writing and I hope you enjoy reading. We are nearing the end.
The Match (Part 8)
The Ride To Mother’s
Not much was said beyond that until they reached Lucinda home. It was a small place, cottage like. An elm graced the front yard next to a flagstone walk that led to a small front porch.
Sam and Rusty hesitated before leaving the car.
“I hope this doesn’t blow up in our face,” Rusty said.
“It won’t,” Sam said. “She’ll be shocked.”
“That can be expected,” Rusty said. “I’ll let you handle it.”
“You’re my older brother,” Sam said and smiled, “this will be the last time I’ll handle something first for you.”
“Our relationship is not quite two hours old and there’s already a sibling rivalry,” Rusty smiled.
“Let’s do this,” Sam said and they got out of the car and walked to the door.
Sam slowly opened the door and stepped inside. “Hey, Mom, it’s me. I got company.”
“Anybody I know?” Lucinda called from another room.
Rusty and Sam looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders.
“I just met somebody I want you to meet,” Sam said.
“I’ll be out in the minute,” Lucinda said. “Can a I bring something to drink?”
Rusty shook his head at Sam.’
“No, Mom,” Sam said, “we’re fine.”
They waited for a minute. Rusty looked around the living room. It was neat and orderly. It was a cheerful room with pictures of Sam and his family.
“Two children?” Rusty said quietly.”
“Boy and girl,” Sam said.
“Nice looking family,” Rusty said.
“Thanks,” Sam said.
“You didn’t have any children, right?” Sam said.
“Never good at relationships,” Rusty said. “After my divorce I had relationships long enough to remind me why I shouldn’t have gotten married to begin with.”
“Maybe the right gal never came along,” Sam said.
“Thanks,” Rusty said, “but I don’t think that was really the problem. I just don‘t know how to… well let‘s leave it at that; I just don‘t know how to.”
Sam reached over and touched Rusty’s knee. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks,” Rusty said.
The sun shined on the entrance Lucinda entered the room through. Her face was full and happy. Her stature was strong and proud; not at all like a person who might be facing life’s end. She wiped her hands on the apron around her and shoved her hand forward to shake. “I’m Lucinda Collins.”
Rusty rose from the chair. “Pleased to meet you.” Rusty said. “I’m Rusty Collins and I pray to god I’m your match.”