Evolution refers to the cumulative changes that occur over time. Things mutate or combine in different ways to create new characteristics passed on to future generations. If we’re talking about the evolution of me as a writer, there have definitely been some changes and mutations that have gotten me to where I am today.

Mutating is a slow process, especially for someone who is generally slow by nature. I was once told that I didn’t have a sense of urgency by giant troll of a woman I worked with. What I wanted to say, and would now, was,” You’re wrong. I don’t have a sense of urgency to do what YOU tell me to do. You’re not the boss of me, you big ugly piece of …” You get the picture. She totally would have deserved it too, that and the sucker punch to the kidneys I would have given her before running out of the office with my fists in the air like Rocky. However, she did have a teeny tiny point.

I really don’t move fast. I have to settle in with something before moving on it. I need to process things: have I done this particular thing before, what worked, what didn’t, who else was involved? There might be some important research to do: OMG I worked with Amy T on that! I haven’t seen her in forever! What’s she up to?

After finishing up my research – sooo turns out Amy T got fired and her entire FB feed is nothing but angry rants and pictures of her pug. Poor Amy T (sad face emoji, heart emoji) I don’t think I’ll reach out to her right now – I get comfortable and make sure I’ve got everything I might need to do the task ahead. Naturally I rearrange my desk and water the plants. Now I’m totally ready to jump into … wait, what was I doing?  So, yeah, she did have a teensy tiny little point about my sense of urgency. But she was still a gigantic bitch!

When it comes to writing, I tend to follow a pattern: I get all excited about sharing my stories with the world and typically make some kind of purchase to prove that I’m obviously serious about making it happen. Soon, the Overthink It phase begins. This is where I conclude that I’m not a writer, nobody is interested in hearing about my boring life, and I’m definitely not smart enough to keep track of everything and everyone in a novel. The Overthink It phase typically ends with me crouched in a corner, rocking slowly, hissing low like Smeagol, “Nobody loves me. Everybody hates me. I guess I’ll go eat worms.”  If you aren’t familiar with this little song, congratulations on your happy, well-adjusted life!

More on this predictable pattern in my next post …