Letters to Myself

I’ve started writing letters to myself, to be read in the morning when I wake up.

Let me tell you a little something about Morning-Me.  Morning-mMe is a lazy, uninspired, uninspiring, waste of a human being.  He doesn’t know words like “ambition” or “drive”.  I can’t depend on him for anything but the most necessary of things.  He’ll take a shower, but have a morning workout?  Never.  He’s not a bad guy, he’s just not very motivated.

It’s not really his fault, as far as I can see.  See, Evening-me has the benefit of an entire days worth of experiences, has lived through the consequences of Morning-Me’s decisions, knows exactly what the repercussions of those decisions are like.  Evening-Me is ambitious.  He wants things, and he wants to get things done.  Morning-Me, on the other hand, has usually just awakened from a dream-land where he’s the singly most powerful being in existence, where the world quite literally revolves around him.  How can Evening-Me really expect Morning-Me to have any real sense of reality, of context, of perspective?  He can’t.  It’s just not part of the mental landscape.

One person; two sets of experiences.  If experience shapes a person’s personality, then the conclusions one can draw are, I would say, not exactly profound, but not insignificant, either.

It’s taken me a long time to come to this realisation, that my mindsets are so very different between 8 o’clock at night and 5 o’clock in the morning that I could get away with describing myself as two entirely different people.  So, I’ve started treating Morning-Me this way, as someone else completely.  That’s what the letters are about.

They’re not long letters.  It’s just a question of letting Morning-Me know exactly why Evening-Me made the decisions he did.  Imagine you’re telling a close friend about what your plans for the next day are, and the reasons for making the plans, and asking if said friend can help you meet those goals.

I’d say Morning-Me’s existence is short-lived, about an hour or so, all told.  After an hour, I’m leaving the house, and the fullness of reality is impressed upon me.  Morning-Me evaporates, and it’s just regular ol’ Me that’s left, going through the day with the impressions and assumptions that Morning-Me created.

It’s helping, I’d say.  I’ve been doing this for a week now, and in the last week, I’ve not only gotten my morning workout in every day I’d originally intended to, but I’m getting in all the writing I think I should be able to. Heck, it’s Monday morning, and I’m getting my blog-post done before my first train transfer.  That almost never happens.

I might start recording bits of audio instead, though I’m not sure if that’s a better or worse idea than a hand-written note.  

In other news, more book 2 work has gone in, and I think I’ll have the entirety of the outline for the first half completed by the end of the week.  That means I’ll be in full “writing the full text” mode by the end of the month.  That’s pretty exciting.

KotF is still in “make the cover” mode, and I have to admit, it’s not going as quickly as I’d hoped.  Still, it is going, and I still have hopes that I can get the whole thing published by the end of the year.

Ok, transfer coming up.  Time to start putting Evening-Me together.

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