You know, this better me thing seems to work. It started out as a conscious effort to have better me-hours after dinner to make sure I would turn on the computer and write instead of turning on the TV and vegging.
It worked! I watched a lot less TV this week and got a lot more words written. But that wasn’t all. Suddenly I found myself picking better me food choices for dinner (no frozen chicken Kiev and chips this week), going for a walk in the evening or spontaneously bursting into sit-ups.
Then the tendrils of better me-ness reached even further. When I walked past meeting rooms where the projector and lights had been left on I actually stopped when my brain screamed out ‘what would better me do?’ so I could go in and turn them all off. I picked up bits of rubbish. I put other people’s dishes in the dishwasher.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve not yet become the better me, I have a long way to go before I can make that claim, but better me turns up a lot more than she did before I invited her in. I like better me. She and I might just get another novel finished.