Taking a day off from the computer and spending time with the family. They’re both good things, right? And I did manage to get more editing done for a couple of days after that. Not much, but some. And then, nothing. Here it is Sunday again and eight chapters are still waiting. What happened? That question always comes up when I hit a wall. A major interruption like a whole day off doesn’t come along that often, but when it does, it’s like being knocked off the road and then not being able to find my way back to it.
Was the interruption responsible for the way the last week turned into a morass of depressed time-killing and a hunt for a new writing project? Or, as a character in Camp Expendable would say, I was due to get got? This is the stage where it’s most likely to happen–call it burnout, writer’s block, whatever. I’ve worked steadily, the end is in sight, and then it all falls apart. I can’t even look at the darned thing. I want desperately to get going on something new. And I know that’s absolutely stupid and the worst thing I can do.
I did come up with a few ideas that will be worth pursuing — when Expendable is finished. The major one is getting a bunch of short stories published. Most of them are complete, but can use a bit of touching up. That shouldn’t be a big job unless I use it as avoidance and let them get in the way of novel work. I’m going to have to keep a tight hold there because I can see myself too easily drifting back into my hop, skip, jump mode where I never get around to finishing anything.
</> gripe, whine, complain