Scattered, Smothered and Covered

I'm sitting in a little writing cabin, so kindly provided by the amazing folks at Porter's Call here in Nashville, trying to be productive. I've had a lot of great ideas recently and am trying to suss them all out, and it all involves a LOT of writing.

There's a new podcast I'm putting together, an online songwriting course, and a business plan for a new venture. Not to mention I think I'm two songs shy of a new record. 

The problem today is focus. A lot of me just wants it all to be done, so as soon as I hit a tiny roadblock on one thing, I switch windows on the laptop and I'm on to something else.

Some might say this is called "multi-tasking" but I call it "feeling really busy and getting nothing accomplished."

That blank screen/empty page is terrifying. It holds no answers and it takes the shape of all my fears ("You're washed up", "Your best songs are all written", "No one cares what you have to say", "This is all a waste of time", etc...). 

But ignoring it won't fill that page. Every time I leave with nothing I will come back to nothing. My sense of hurry and wanting to accomplish a lot is useless, it's only in my focus that I'll find anything.

And I need to be logical. What do I have to do for the podcast that needs to be done today? Set up dates and time for the interviews. Ok. Send six emails and then shut that down and come back tomorrow.

What do I need to do for my online course? Try out the camera and mic in my living room on a sunny day. Well, today is rainy and I'm not even at home. Leave it. I've done all I can do for today.

That business plan? The ball is out of my court at the moment, so don't worry about it now.

What can I accomplish today in the time I have left? I need to write those last two songs. I have a quiet room, a nice guitar, two melodies I love and an hour and ten minutes til my next meeting. 

Oh, and those fears I just told you about.

Well, I don't want those fears to win. There's nothing else I need to do right now but launch a crusade against that empty page. This song won't write itself, as much as I may want it to.

Here we go.