The entire manuscript, complete with hundreds of graphics, dozens of contributions and about 200 pages, is due to the publisher May 1. That’s 54 days from today. Before I begin writing, I have to collect and organize an insane amount of data. I’ve been very busy with inquiries to free and low-cost tool vendors to get them to fill out forms about their products, plus I’ve been querying professionals about their favorite tools. And did I mention I’ve yet to begin writing? And, for whatever reason, my phone has been ringing twice as much lately with new projects from existing and new clients.

The workload is overwhelming. I’m officially daunted.

Every single minute that I am not working means guilt (including now when I’m taking time to update the blog), but I’m being as proactive as I can possibly be. I put D.J. on notice that most of my workdays for the next few weeks are going to be long ones, and I’ll probably be working every weekend. I’ve canceled haircuts, put off health care appointments, turned down visits and trips with friends.  I’ve warned friends and family that I’m strung tighter than the strap on my g-string after holiday feasting. I’ve increased the cupcake budget, and I’ve hired a temporary employee to cut, paste, follow up on inquiries and organize while I continue writing my regular stuff. She starts tomorrow.

And I’ve taken an extra step, a crazy step, an indulgent step. I just made a reservation for my first-ever writer’s retreat — a week in a nice condo in Palm Springs, CA. My retreat costs almost as much as I will receive as an advance for this book, and I’ll lose my regular revenue because I’ll leave my day job behind. My inner accountant is screaming — this decision does not make financial sense in the slightest. It’s logical to visit either my friend who owns a farm in Iowa or a buddy who lives in a house in the woods of Oklahoma. Both of those locales are more than an hour from a Wal-Mart. But I need to keep weird hours, withdraw from society and be a bitch when necessary. I can’t afford to be friendly or social, and my friends are too wonderful to ignore like that.

D.J. is 1000 percent behind my decision. “This is one of the most important projects in your career,” he said, “and you have to make an investment in yourself to make this succeed.” He’s right. Yet. Still. Umm. That’s a lot of money, and what if I get there and see the blank document as a blank wall? I’ll have wasted all this money, put my clients on hold and will be utterly disappointed in myself.

When my friend Troy was writing his book, he locked himself in the family motor home for several days to work. And he succeeded. Frankly, I think I will, too.

I take that back. I KNOW I will succeed. I have to succeed, and I’ve laid the groundwork to do so. I just need to put in the hours, and I’m ready to crank.

54 days.

As we start a New Year, I think we need to consider making ourselves more accountable for the dreams we have, especially those we’ve always had. How long have you been telling yourself you would like to live a more healthy lifestyle? How many times have you started on the path, only to fall back into old habits? I would bet that each time you try and fail, you flog yourself internally. And the goal stays with you, haunting you even as you try to ignore it. What if you could accomplish that goal and leave that worry behind? What else could you accomplish?

I can’t tell you how long I’ve threatened to write a book. In my second-grade memory book, I wrote that I wanted to be a writer. That means I’ve been holding on to the dream for at least 34 years. It’s time to do something about it. So, I commit to giving it a sincere try.

For the past three days, I’ve been tapping the keyboard on my laptop at the kitchen table. I’ve got a great idea for a mystery series, and dammit, I’m going to get the words down on paper. Today I wrote answers to a series of questions about one of my main characters: where does she live? what does she look like? what does she eat? The more I write about her, the more I want to get to know her, to introduce her to my friends and family so they can enjoy who she is. I thought about her all the way to work this morning, mulling over what she might say if we met or how she might react to all the hardbodies I saw in the gym this morning. I’m actually looking forward to the next time I get to put her story on paper tomorrow.

I can tell you, though, that sticking to this goal is not going to be easy. Each day I’ve sat at the table and stared at the screen, fully convinced I have nothing to say. I’m positive that my dialog is stilted, that I’m relying too much on plot and not on characters, that I’m telling, not showing. I fret that I’m wasting my time because the publishing industry is stilted, and less than 4 percent of writers ever sell enough to write full time — and perhaps the real percentage is even smaller than that. What chance do I have of publishing? And if I do manage to find a publisher, what’s the likelihood that the book will actually become a success?

Logically, I should realize that my chance of being a successful author is so remote that I should drop it. I should concentrate on the status quo, which is actually pretty darn cool. I’m a successful freelance copywriter, a somewhat sought-after speaker and a helpful marketing hand when needed. Achieving what I have in this competitive realm is a rarity, but achieve it I did. So why mess with success?

Because the dream won’t go away. I can’t get it out of my head. If I don’t do it, I’ll drive myself mad. So, let’s hear your dream, your goal, your resolution. Step up with me to declare your dream outloud and COMMIT to making it happen. Because when we free up the energy we devote to worrying about whether we achieve this dream, who knows what we’ll have time for?

Leave your comments and COMMIT with me! We can do this together….

“I have a business card crisis,” I announced. “I am trying to print my new cards with the new logo, and two printers have produced disappointing results. See, this one is too flimsy, and this one was cut too small. And I have 1000 of each! Don’t you think I need to redo them?”

Mario paused, thinking for a moment. “Yes, this one’s a little thin. And it’s so strange that these cards are so small, but honestly — and I don’t mean to talk myself out of a sale — honestly, you’re just being too picky.”

Too picky? Didn’t he see that the cards were not PERFECT? Couldn’t he tell that I was ready to pay yet more money to make everything EXACTLY the way I had imagined it?

Mario continued, “I know these little things mean a lot to you, but frankly, no one else will care. It’s a business card. It holds your information. These are both perfectly acceptable, and I’m sure you can think of better ways to invest in your business that will pay off more than this.”

Ahhh. Mario is indeed wise. Although my new business cards are not PERFECT, not one recipient would look at them and say, “Wow. Bad cards. I’m never calling her.” If I hadn’t talked to Mario, I would have gone to yet a third discount online printer to try to improve on the cards, and I would have ended up with another 1000.

Things I learned this morning:

1. Experts are helpful.
   Talking to Mario and benefiting from his years of experience, I saved myself time and hassle, not to mention more money. Thank you, Mario! (Plus, by talking me out of these cards, he probably earned himself another sale the next time I need to print something.)
2. It’s easy to lose perspective.
   As Mario pointed out — these are just business cards. You get them. You give them. Some stand out. Some don’t. It’s just no big deal.
3. Perfection is tough to find.
   The whole logo and site redesign started because I ran out of the old business cards. I needed to update my address and add other services to my site. Thus began a complete redesign that took several weeks, about a thousand bucks and a whole lot of worrying. And I had envisioned the perfect business card to be the culmination of my hard work.
4. Two thousand business cards is a lot.
   My original business card order in 2007 was for a thousand cards. It took me two years to give them all out. Now I have 2000 new cards. Anyone want one? Or a dozen?

But these days, the statistics tell another story. I still have wonderful, regular readers, but the dropoff has been monumental. Here are the top reasons why…

1. I’m not reading your blogs.
   Oh gosh but we had fun in the old days, visiting each other’s blogs and encouraging, laughing, leaving witty comments. I’d discover and learn to love new blogs from the blog rolls of my favorite blogging friends. But as time wore on and business picked up, I had less and less time to wander the internet for new sites or even stop by my favorites. And in the blogging world, if you don’t give, you don’t get. I miss you guys! I’m so sorry I’ve ceased stopping by.
2. I’m not writing often enough.
   If you don’t write new stuff, people don’t come by as often. If you come by and visit and the same post is up, you move on, and sooner or later, you don’t stop by anymore.
3. I’ve run out of things to say about being a new freelance copywriter.
   These days I wonder if I should rename this blog or simply start a new one. The purpose when I started was to document my first entrepreneurial adventure so others can learn from my mistakes when they start their own business. I’m pretty proud to say that I think I have helped people launch their freelance careers. Even today I get notes from fellow writers who ask questions about how to handle taxes or what I do about business cards or the like. But I’m not really facing new challenges about running my business. And I’m not sure “business as usual” posts are interesting to read.
4. I’ve kind of said it all.
   This is not quite true, but I frequently have ideas about new blog posts on motivation, sticking to a plan, how to be productive, etc. And then I remember that I’ve already covered that in such-and-such a post. And since most of the readers I have today have been with me for quite some time, I have a feeling they’d recognize some of the themes.
5. I’m distracted by other shiny social media toys.
   Facebook. Twitter. Whrrl. I send pictures, messages, posts on the fly. They can be short, and I get instant feedback and lots of it. I designed The Cheapskate Freelancer site so each post is less than 100 words, so it’s easy to churn out a post. It’s hard to get back to writing a daily 500-word post about what I’m doing, since it’s so easy to update the other sites in just a few words.

For all my excuses, I’m truly sad I’m not keeping up any more. I miss interacting and sharing my adventures. My goal is to turn my experiences into a book that will help other budding writers get started as freelancers, and maybe my manuscript is finished.

The email was mostly an ad about their glorious brownies, cookies and cakes, with glowing testimonials by the scrumptious pictures. “Share Your Story!” they said. “Your feedback is our most powerful source of insight about how we’re doing. It is also our best reward!”

They asked me to submit an anecdote of why I love them for their blog. I declined — not because I don’t love them, but because there was nothing in it for me. (Keep reading this post… something in it for you at the bottom!)

I wanted a chance to win free brownies. Better yet, I wanted some free brownies! I wanted some incentive to spend my very precious time to help their marketing efforts.

Lately I’ve become very selfish with my time. When I first started working for myself as a professional writer, I spent lots and lots of time on things that didn’t move me forward. It has taken me a long time to realize how valuable each hour is — how much energy I spend with little 10-minute detours that don’t get me anywhere.

When you work for yourself, it’s easy to lose track of the value of time. After all, we can work on weekends. We don’t feel like someone’s taking advantage of us when we put in a 12-hour day. It’s all for our own benefit, right?

But very recently I did some math that scared me.

• Each day has 24 hours.
• I sleep about 8 hours a night. 16 hours left.
• I workout an average of an hour a day, give or take. 15 hours left.
• Showering, eating, milling about — that’s another 2 hours or so. Down to 13 hours.
• A little breathing time takes up probably 3 hours a day — TV, visiting with D.J., petting the cat. 11 hours.
• Answering email takes at least an hour, sometimes 2. It’s the little things that pile up. “Beth, what do you think of this idea?” “Beth, when can you meet for our next project?” All these notes require a few back-and-forth emails, and they all take time. Down to 8 hours.
• I need to bill at least 3-4 hours a day to make a living. That leaves about 4 hours.
• The 4 hours simply… go away. I Twitter them. I pop on to Facebook. I check our stock portfolio, a meager amount of investments that D.J. and I have fun watching. I’m embarrassed to admit I enjoy watching Yahoo! TV’s Primetime in No Time. It’s silly, but it makes me smile. And I check other stuff. And stand outside in the San Diego sunshine. And people call. And the cat sits on the keyboard. And the time just goes away.

I feel very sad that I don’t feel like I have the time to invest a few minutes for a company I admire. But doing so doesn’t move me forward, and I have to keep my priorities straight. My reaction (which was immediate and decided without hesistation) also gave me insight into my own dealings with people. What I offer has to be worth your time. What I write, what I do, what I give all need to be valuable to you.

On that note, did you sign up for my first-ever giveaway? Tell me your favorite free or low-cost tech tool for a chance to win a gift certificate from Amazon.com!

Perfect, I thought. I can catch up with my Twitter friends. Or better yet, I can start on the outline of my nonfiction book. Or maybe try to empty out the email inbox, or edit my friend’s resume, or perhaps finally set up a Facebook page. Oh yeah, I need to add a few more entries to the Avenue Z Toolbox. Oohh… I have it…. I wrote 1500 words on my novel last Sunday with the San Diego writer’s group. Why don’t I add to that?

Or…

Or…

Or…

So now it’s close to 6 a.m. The possibilities of my precious, uninterrupted time period were too much for me. I ended up hanging the laundry, drinking some Alka-Seltzer, cleaning up a gift the cat left for me, making coffee, and sitting at this computer checking stats and reading about how Michelle Obama thinks their new puppy, Bo, is “kind of crazy.” (To my credit and our country’s embarrassment, this story made headlines everywhere.)

Absolutely nothing is wrong with the way I just spent the last two hours. My activities were normal and necessary (except for the puppy news), and I have nothing to be embarrassed about. If I had added those items to the list of possibilities for what I could do this morning, I would feel like I had accomplished something. Instead, I feel as if I completely wasted my window of opportunity.

I faced two obstacles. All the items on my list were important, and all of them would have filled the relatively small chunk of time I had free. I had no way of prioritizing these random to do thoughts. They kept materializing like popcorn as I poured the coffee. And since I couldn’t choose, I did none of the above.

I have a great way of dealing with my work tasks, but I haven’t yet applied that system to tasks that don’t involve direct revenue generation. For work, I write a to do list each day, on real paper. All the upcoming tasks I have for each client are listed, and those that are due today (or in the immediate future) receive a swipe of a yellow highlighter. That notepad stays directly in front of my keyboard all day, and my close of business doesn’t happen until all the yellow line items are gone.

But I don’t have such a list for my other hopes and dreams. I’m still trying to find direction with the book ideas. I still haven’t figured out how I want to brand myself in social media (Facebook, Twitter, etc.). I’m revamping Avenue Z Toolbox, so I’m not going to pour a lot of effort into building traffic until I have the new look (coming soon!). Until I truly embrace a plan for my future endeavors, I fear I’ll keep shuffling in place instead of moving forward when I have a precious window of free time.

Oh well. Perhaps more coffee will help.

I completely lost it! I started blubbering to D.J. about my fiction writing and how I didn’t really know if I wrote good fiction or if I could write or novel or if I should stick to writing for other people or or or…. I hadn’t even entered my name into the selection process — they had selected my piece from a reading I did almost 2 years ago.

I felt a beam of light shine down from the heavens onto my BlackBerry as I read her email.

This was a sign.

…A sign that I was a real writer at heart.

…A sign that I could write fiction.

…A sign that I should start working on one of the 3 or 4 novel ideas that stream through my head before I rise in the morning.

I’ve been going through somewhat of a writer’s crisis. Right now I make a living writing for other people. I’m ready to make a switch to start writing more for myself. But I’ve learned a lot about the book publishing industry, and I’m torn between what may be an emotional calling vs. a common-sense plan that will bring in revenue. What should I do?

Here are what I see as my potential projects and options:

1. Better safe than sorry, right?: I’m making a pretty good living writing for other people. Why mess with what works in an economy like this?
2. Really, this is a no-brainer: In 1996, my sister and I worked our way around the country for six months, doing everything from washing airplanes and windows to working in a spice factory, a bacon plant and an egg-packing facility. I wrote “America on Five Dollars an Hour,” and it was accepted for publication. At the last minute, the publisher and I had a parting of the ways (very long story).The manuscript needs a good revision, but it’s a book that’s done. I could rewrite the proposal and shop it around.
3. Now this one might work: I’ve built a successful business, not an amazing business, but a successful business, by being what I indelicately call a “Cheapass Freelancer.” I use free tech tools, invest in cheap marketing techniques, eat cheap food and take financial shortcuts wherever I can. I think others would benefit from my tips and tricks, so I was thinking of a book tentatively titled, “1000 Tips to Make a Decent Living as a Cheapass Freelancer.” (The title needs help, I know.) I could start off with an ebook here then work toward self-publishing and travel around making presentations. I’m pretty confident that this would resonate with people, especially as so many are laid off and starting their own freelancing businesses.
4. Starting to dream: I want to spend a year doing volunteer work for dozens and dozens of organizations and causes and write a book called “A Month of Sundays: A Year of Volunteering in America.” I actually had interest in this concept from a literary agent, but he and I had gone out together, so maybe he wasn’t really interested.
5. Getting a little nutty: Publishers love it when writers have an idea for a series of books, so she can build an audience that buys each new volume. I want to write a series based on my travels with my sister: two smart yet quirky chicks who get odd jobs in state after state and wind up embroiled in mysteries they need to solve.
6. Beth, really? Come on now: I’m fascinated with the interplay between certain scenarios/personalities and the media. I’ve got two novels in mind that will be funny, fast-paced social commentaries. One is based on the runaway bride episode, where a bride got cold feet and disappeared, only to claim that she was kidnapped. The second is about the myth of celebrity, where the ultimate inaugural ball (or some event) is supposed to include “everybody who is anybody.”

Dear readers, what should I do? As the numbers of the list get higher, the potential for revenue in the near future (or ever!) gets more remote. But if I don’t take the risk, nothing will change, and I will continue to have dreams of books never written in my head….

I’d love your feedback. What would you do?

PS — The reading is Tuesday night. Here are the details…

But the funny thing is that the post had a subscript. “Oh my God. I’m exactly where I was 5 years ago,” she wrote, with a link to another post. The post from 2004 was an exact replica of the newer post, putting a painful time stamp on proof that she wasn’t making any progress, even though she had vowed to do better before.

The same thought struck me somewhat when I wrote my last post. I talked about how recent stresses in my life had made me realize how important writing is to me and had clarified how much I want to write for myself. Sometimes these revelations that are crystal clear seem like they’ve come from nowhere, but the truth is we’ve probably promised ourselves the same things before. We’ve vowed to accept our bodies. We’ve sworn that we’ll start volunteering. We’ve promised we’ll be better parents, siblings, children, significant others.

But how often have we really decided on change then made it happen?

Perhaps I’m the worst person in the world to analyze this, but hey… it’s my blog, right? I think in order for us to actually implement the change we want to make, three things need to be true.

1. We have to make the change for the right reason. We won’t make real changes if we’re doing it because someone else wants us to. I tried for YEARS to get my father to stop smoking. As a kid I drew skull-and-crossbones pictures on his cigarette packs with thick black markers. And my ex-husband wanted me to lose weight. Take a guess how those two initiatives ended.
2. We have to believe we’re worthy of the change. When we dream, we usually hope for things that will make us feel good, look better, earn more money or invite more happiness. If deep down we don’t believe we’re worthy of advancement, we won’t work very hard to take ourselves out of our present reality.
3. We have to believe the change itself is worth it. Perhaps it’s just a little niggle of a concern that passes through your conscious mind while your thoughts are whizzing by. What if what I’m trying to do just isn’t worth it? Change of almost any type is challenging and takes extra energy. It’s much easier to muddle along in the muddle you know instead of getting into something you don’t know will work.

For those of us who keep making plans and getting frustrated when we don’t achieve our goals, perhaps we should examine the real reasons we keep making excuses. I want to be a published author, yet I have to ask myself if I’m doing that because *I* want to be an author or because other people will think it’s cool that I’m an author. I doubt my ability to write, and there’s a little voice inside me that tells me I’m not good enough to be one of the *real* authors, the ones who don’t have to keep their day jobs. And I’m not sure if what I want to write is worth the effort of writing it. Yes, I can probably write a book that some people would want to buy, but would it help people?

So, what other reasons do you think people have for putting off change?

This morning I had 30 minutes before an important client call, and for the first time in 2 weeks, I sat down to write a blog post. My sister (and others) have been elbowing me about not writing lately (“Hey, Beth… what gives? Where you been?”), and I really wanted to let the words I think all day and night flow again.

Then the phone rang. It was my sister. My little window of opportunity to write for myself (and for my neglected blog readers) slipped away.

My problem right now isn’t really time management. Frankly for the past two weeks or so I feel like I’ve been working and running nonstop. Work is hopping with major projects for several key clients. I’m the first to admit that I really fell off the productivity wagon this fall when I got the news about Mom. But I’m focused and productive and working my rear off these days, and I’m still behind. Really behind.

The second priority has been the boyfriend and his family. His parents were in town for 10 days, and we were getting together almost every evening. D.J. put them on a plane this morning, so perhaps that social obligation will be gone, but I still want to be a good girlfriend to D.J. and save some quality time for him.

Thirdly, I’ve committed myself to training for my fastest marathon ever. I went from working out 3-5 days a week to 5-7 days a week. And they’re not just little trips to the gym. Some of my workouts are 2 and 3 hours, and that’s been hard to schedule.

Oh, did I tell you I’m moving in with D.J. this month? Priority number four. We moved my bed over to his house for his parents to use, so I’m using my apartment as a day office and sleeping there at night. Of course, my clothes aren’t there. But for some reason, I can’t find anything here at the office either. I haven’t worn appropriate undergarments in more than a week. (Not the first time I’ve had this problem.)

So, I have work, family, training and moving as co-priorities, and that hasn’t left time for anything else. When the writing time started to slip away, I started to realize how important it is to me, and I wondered why I wasn’t making time to do it. If it’s so important, why did I let it go for so long?

As the clock ticks quickly toward my second anniversary as a professional freelance writer, I realize more and more that I want to work more toward writing for myself. I’ve proven that I can write for other people because I’ve found and retained clients who pay me to write for them. I consider that a success. But now that I think back to the decision I made to start writing in the first place, I realize I wanted to freelance for other people because I wasn’t as confident as I needed to be about my own writing. Now that I’ve established that I can write for other people, I feel more excited about writing for myself.

In sum, I’ve been busy. That’s what gives. But my life of late has helped me realize what’s important to me, and I’ll get back to writing for you and for me very, very soon.

M&Ms! Customized M&Ms! I would put my cartoon head on candy and put it in a cute tin and add a raffia bow with a little handmade card! Yeah… and I would send it to people. Lots of people. And I would write a clever note like, “Well, I wouldn’t call this a bribe, exactly, but….”

Yeah! What a brilliant marketing idea to get me noticed! As I struggled to make sure my face on the M&M would not make my cheeks look more pudgy, I located and ordered the cute little tins with the clear tops so people could immediately see the custom M&Ms.

I was so excited when the tins arrived that I opened them in the post office.

Then I put them in the trunk.

And there they stayed.

Last week — last week – I removed the box from the trunk of my Miata. I never did order the M&Ms. The box took up about a third of the trunk, and since July each time I popped it open for groceries, I felt THE GUILT. Oof, that project. Yeah. Should have followed through. That’s a lot of guilt.

The reasons I didn’t finish the job (too expensive, not clear to whom I should send them, scared of having people eat my heads) don’t matter as much in this post as THE GUILT about not finishing. As small business owners, we have plenty to worry about. Will the check make it into the bank before the rent comes out? Did I save enough for taxes? Am I going to make the deadline? Did I meet the client’s expectations?

Adding guilt about unfinished projects is a complete waste of time. But we do it all the time. We have these great ideas that we can’t get around to, and we feel frustrated or guilty when we think of them. “Ugh — yeah… we really need to do that still.” We think we don’t have the time to get them done, but we waste the energy feeling guilty about not getting them done.

One of my favorite productivity gurus is Troy Malone from Pelotonics (a group productivity website). Troy has embraced David Allen’s Getting Things Done, and Troy tells me that David tells him that THE GUILT keeps us from being productive. Instead of having these little niggling unfinished tasks in our head, we need to create a plan to get them done or to forget about them or to hand them off to someone else. The more little feelings of guilt we have about things left undone, the less we can manage the tasks we have in front of us.

So, I’m going to stop beating myself up over not making the M&Ms with my cartoon on them. It’s still a brilliant idea, of course, and perhaps the perfect opportunity will come up. But I’m going to stop feeling guilty. I’m also going to stop worrying about the bag full of picture frames I bought to create the perfect white board for my to do lists (no, really — this was a great idea!). And I’m going to hide the blank digital picture frame where I never uploaded my nephews’ pictures, and the empty organizer where I never filed my 2008 tax receipts. These things don’t really matter here at Avenue Z, and I’m tired of wasting time worrying about them.

Happy New Year.