I've been on a quasi-vacation
this week, nothing elaborate..just a couple of day trips and a whole lot of
goofing off. But now it's Friday and it's time to pay the piper, so to speak.
I look over my word count for the
week which has been bleak and I try to come to terms, in my head, with getting
very little done. Am I okay with that? Do I wish I did more?
First, I always wish I did more,
whether I've managed to squeak out a thousand words or ten thousand, enough is
never enough. My work in progress (WIP) is not where I would like it to be but
it is coming along. I have several projects I am working on all at the same
time but none of them are where I would like them to be at the moment. But
instead of pouring over them in my mind during my seven hours, give or take, in
the car this week, I looked at the beautiful scenery, talked to my significant
other, and occasionally napped. I didn't think much about it at the time, I was
not riddled with guilt that I wasn't writing, I was just enjoying my getaway to
parts previously unseen.
Maybe I should have been poking
at my plot bunnies and ruffling their fuzzy tails when I was lying on beach or
maybe I should have been killing off one of my characters in a blizzard while
visiting the ski slopes but I did neither of these things. I just enjoyed where
I was and lived life for a little while.
I don't know what other writer's
do in these situations, do you sneak off to write when no one is looking? Do
you rise from your bed to get that elusive daily word goal in before anyone
else is out of bed?
I put writing ahead of nearly
everything else in my life, but not everything...and I usually don't feel
guilty about it...
But when I look at my work and
it's not where I want it to be, I can fill an ocean with all the what ifs....but I would rather just lie
beside it and sleep...
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