Done?
At this time of year, I have to keep reminding myself that I don't always get to decide when something is done.
I may be sick to death of revising, but that doesn't mean the essay is "done."
Similarly, I may be sick to death of dressing in ninety-eleven layers and wearing boots, but that doesn't mean winter is "done."
On the other hand, *I* can be done with something--like *I* can be "done" revising an essay. For now.
*I* could even be "done" with winter. As it happens, I haven't yet scheduled a trip to visit my sister (who, conveniently for my attention span for winter, lives in Tucson), so I'm not quite "done" yet.
Later, I can revisit the essay. If it's still as "done" as I can make it, then I can send it out.
One reason I haven't yet scheduled my sun-seeking trip is that I want to be sure that the time away is worth the return to a landscape that hasn't actually let go of winter. Even if all the snow melted tomorrow and we got nothing new, the weather can remain cold well into late April and early May. (I keep fleece jackets on hand for summer visitors, who are usually sure they don't need them but usually do.) Once I'm sure I'm ready to come back, I can feel better about going.
So, I'll set aside that essay, until I have fresh eyes and can see if it reads well. I can wrap my shoulders in sweaters and my hands around a mug of coffee, until I'm warm enough to put on even more layers and go out to enjoy the returning sunshine.
And while I'm warming up, I can even consider whether shortening the second section of that essay--or better yet, dropping that thread altogether--would help that essay become more nearly "done."
I may be sick to death of revising, but that doesn't mean the essay is "done."
Similarly, I may be sick to death of dressing in ninety-eleven layers and wearing boots, but that doesn't mean winter is "done."
On the other hand, *I* can be done with something--like *I* can be "done" revising an essay. For now.
*I* could even be "done" with winter. As it happens, I haven't yet scheduled a trip to visit my sister (who, conveniently for my attention span for winter, lives in Tucson), so I'm not quite "done" yet.
Later, I can revisit the essay. If it's still as "done" as I can make it, then I can send it out.
One reason I haven't yet scheduled my sun-seeking trip is that I want to be sure that the time away is worth the return to a landscape that hasn't actually let go of winter. Even if all the snow melted tomorrow and we got nothing new, the weather can remain cold well into late April and early May. (I keep fleece jackets on hand for summer visitors, who are usually sure they don't need them but usually do.) Once I'm sure I'm ready to come back, I can feel better about going.
So, I'll set aside that essay, until I have fresh eyes and can see if it reads well. I can wrap my shoulders in sweaters and my hands around a mug of coffee, until I'm warm enough to put on even more layers and go out to enjoy the returning sunshine.
And while I'm warming up, I can even consider whether shortening the second section of that essay--or better yet, dropping that thread altogether--would help that essay become more nearly "done."