I've been coasting on natural talent and a permissive wife for a while now. That's got to stop.
I always used to joke that I stayed chubby so I wouldn't have to fight so many women off, which was my way of blaming anything but myself for being a fat [REDACTED]. (One of my friends coined the term "candy-coated" for my porcine situation, but this is no time for euphemisms.) Similarly, I've always waved off any suggestions that I need a more organized work-life. I understand structure, I have a great command of language, and I like writing -- who needs schedules? Who needs to read more scripts?
Turns out, this guy.
Today, for the first time, I am working from a schedule in my freelance/self-employed life. (I actually overslept, so at the moment, I'm skipping breakfast in order to catch up to my schedule.) I sat up and wrote out what I'm going to get done today, and I started with a "Morning Constitutional." In order to maximize the calorie burn of my morning walk, I strapped ankle weights to my wrists (my wrists are almost certainly bigger than your ankles), and set my timer. I'm actually writing this while still sweating my choobies off. ("Choobies?" A Star Wars slang term from The Han Solo Adventures by Brian Daley.)
I'm about to start work on a freelance gig. Hopefully, I can finish my scheduled allotment of work a little early and grab something to eat -- I'm supposed to be writing until lunchtime. But this is how things are done now. Google Calendar, my alarms and timers, and a schedule determined the night before.
Hopefully, if I stick to this, achievement will follow. (I don't want to say "success," because there will always be new goals, new things I want to do, and new bills to be paid.) It's time to be my own boss.