A day after contemplating the wisdom of upgrading my portfolio at www.writing.com, which my chennybopping soul could not get myself to pay for, someone anonymously gifted me with an upgraded membership.
Not just the Basic Membership that I was thinking about, the one that allowed up to 25 items posted, but a full Upgraded Membership that lets you post up to 250 pieces, plus lets you do a whole lot of other things. And this anonymous gift is good fo two months. Oh joy.
Of course, I also realized that it could be a marketing ploy--a sneaky way for them to entrap chennyboppers like me, making us taste the good life and forcing us to pay for membership when our current membership expires, because we discover that we can't go back to five items. Oh well. I don't care. I still appreciate the upgrade.
But now comes the pressure. Pressure, pressure, pressure. I now seriously have to write and produce material to post. What a waste of the 250-item space if I don't get at least half full. I have to really set aside time and effort to get out those brilliant stories swimming around my head, floating in my soul.
I need to be disciplined. I need to be focused and effective. I need to finish work so I won't feel guilty when I do non-work writing. I need help to do this, as by nature, I am a lazy bum.
Pressure, pressure, pressure. I need serious rehabilitation for creative writing muscles that have atrophied.
Speaking of gifts, my dad recently bought me a copy of Jonathan Kellerman's Twisted. And the Baby Seester bought me Kellerman's Therapy (which she will read before giving to me; I don't mind--I do the same to the books I give to her).
When you give, it just comes back! What a wonderful concept.