How much is too much, and how
little is too little? I am still getting my head around this question to put my
love of things under control. I didn’t think about this so much until I started
writing. I wanted a web page and a blog. One was not enough. Today I have six
blogs that are public and several that are private. The same with web pages.
Finally, I have consolidated to one website, but the others still wink at me on
Google searches.
My brain is always in hyper mode of things to do and I like to
create something new for every idea. When I look back on my life, it seems to
be a pattern. Six storage units full of antiques turned me into an antique
dealer.
"Buy what you love you'll always find space in your home." I became an antique dealer when six storage units proved that quote wrong.
The year after my husband died, I opened my own
little shop, and in four months, I rented not one, but three buildings in a
tiny hub that had no business traffic. I was ecstatic, however, that I had so
many buildings so I could have writing classes, book signings for local authors,
and still try to sell antiques. It didn’t take me long to learn the one thing I
didn’t have too much of was money! My shop closed in nine months, although I
hauled my treasures to a small town forty minutes away and rented space in
three different antique malls.
One dog led to six. To cover that insanity I named myself Writer With Dogs. Now no one calls me a crazy dog lady.
Was it time to get professional help, I wondered. My new doctor answered that one for me.
“Here, take this card and go talk to him.” Her voice had a thick accent as she shoved a plain business card at me. “Your blood pressure is so high because you have too many dogs, too many shops, and heaven knows what else!”
My blood pressure was high because I came
to her right after I had been rear-ended in a car mishap (gently, and no one
was hurt). I took the card and made the appointment. A few days later, I showed
up at a tiny building with one window facing the parking lot. The forms I
filled out asked about my drug use, prison time, and other personal issues I
might want to discuss. What I wanted to discuss was how much I disliked my new
doctor who thought I was crazy and sent me to him. I knew this visit would be limited to only one.
An older looking man with a grey beard
invited me into his office. He looked at the forms and then at me. "What is the
problem?"
I decided to cut to the chase. “You might say I have a multiple disorder. I am never satisfied with one.” I then went on to talk about my dogs, my shops, my antiques, my blogs . . . I did mention my husband who had died several years earlier. "He was six foot seven inches tall." I chuckled thinking of the man who made me want to settle down. “Thank goodness I only needed one husband.”
I decided to cut to the chase. “You might say I have a multiple disorder. I am never satisfied with one.” I then went on to talk about my dogs, my shops, my antiques, my blogs . . . I did mention my husband who had died several years earlier. "He was six foot seven inches tall." I chuckled thinking of the man who made me want to settle down. “Thank goodness I only needed one husband.”
“Perhaps because he was so tall, it seemed
like more.” The shrink smiled back at me.
I came away feeling exactly as I did before I walked through his office door. For me, creativity can't be contained. I see beauty in everything. I can't eat just one potato chip.
I am kinder to myself now, realizing I will over do most everything when I am excited. I have learned that less is sometimes more, especially when it comes to writing. A tighter story is better than one that rambles aimlessly. One website is less confusing to your audience. Ah, but blogs, I am still blog crazy.
For me there will never be too many dogs, too many friends, too many books to read, or too many ideas that I want to write about.
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