It’s early in the week for the self-doubt to start, but there it is. “This is garbage,” I sigh, caught in a second draft of a book about Recession, Moving, and other good times.

A novel, also unfinished, waits in a different file on my computer, taunting, “What am I, chopped liver? How many more years are you going to take to finish me?” Low blow, novel, low blow.

It takes a lot of chutzpah to shout down those voices, or as Kelly Corrigan says (so much better than I, darn you Kelly), to suspend your disbelief for as long as it takes to accomplish your dream, be it a start-up, a screenplay, or an Ironman.

A good mantra would be helpful here, but I’ll go with what comes to mind: “No time like the present.” And here we go. Back to dreaming.

For more “Confessions of Motherhood,” read Deliver Me: True Confessions of Motherhood, the best-selling collection of true stories. Read reviews.

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