
I’ve decided that the only way to really motivate myself to write all the time is to reward myself for good behaviour. If I write (or at least sit at my computer/notebook without looking at email or the internet) for an hour then I get half an hour’s knitting as a reward. Yes, it’s come to this – I’m rewarding myself with knitting.
It’s a trick I’m trying to teach my kid right now – get your chores done first and then you can play as much as you like. She gets it. I get it. But as a grown-up it’s sometimes hard to make yourself do the right thing. I know have to do my homework for Dawn’s stand-up class, but it’s the long weekend and I’d rather be knitting on the porch.
I use the reward system with the “you’re going to look like a lazy and incompetent arse if you don’t have a great set at your graduation class and your husband paid for your course and he’s going to feel like it was a waste of money” system. Kind of good cop, bad cop. On myself.
If you’ve read The War of Art you’ll know all about procrastination and the various forms it takes. I just thank God that knitting has taken over from beer or I’d probably be in the hospital right now.
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Good grief… knitting? Really? Is it at least, I don’t know, *dirty* knitting?
It’s actually very clean knitting right now – cotton bibs for my pal Ines who’s about to drop sprog #2. Although I have seen a fabulous knitting book in Indigo where you can knit yourself basques and bras, nurses outfits and handcuffs etc. I’m tempted, but since I justify my knitting habit by making gifts for all my friends I’m not quite sure I can get away with buying it.