Work on my current book has gone slowly this past week. There’s not been any one thing slowing me down, it just seems to be a combination of everything. The weather has been dull and cold and stormy. A touch of snow on Tuesday or Wednesday seems to have lowered the temperature outside, and when I get too cold I go into hibernation mode. I don’t want to do anything. Least of all sit and focus on any one consuming task. Add to the mix an eleven month old, who over Christmas learned The Art of the Tantrum and now chooses to practice periodically throughout the day, and the fact that I’ve had a stinking head cold since Wednesday and have been feeling generally lethargic, it all adds up to taking time and effort away from Things That Really Have To Get Done. I don’t mean just my job, which is writing, but the general mechanics of running a home and organising a family, as well.
I also had a little idea about my current WIP last week, and I’ve been trying to convert the tense and point-of-view on my current progress, which is always a nightmare. I avoid doing this at any cost unless I think it’s absolutely necessary. It leads to a lot of mess and ends up changing huge chunks of story mechanics that aren’t easily ironed out.
Today is also Sunday. I don’t normally work on Sundays, I reserve them as my one day a week I get to focus on the hundred other leisure projects I enjoy doing but don’t have enough time for. But today, like last weekend, my husband has been called into work, and now my day of rest feels very much like a Monday. My brain is in Monday mode despite my body yelling that it’s Sunday and I should be asleep. I think I ought to try and get some work done and get a day ahead of myself, but I’m tired and I’m lagging and it’s much easier to sit in front of a blinking cursor than it is to convert that blinking into flowing words.
The problem with Life is that it is rarely every predictable. I can never sit down on a Monday and guarantee myself 12,000 words written by a Saturday. And that is sad truth about being a full-time writer: No matter how hard you try to get work down on the page so you can get it out the door and earn something of a meagre living from it, distraction and disturbance seems to find us harder than it finds anyone in any other profession. For every week of prolific work and boundless progress, there’s always two or three of nursing a head cold or a sick child, or some other part of life sits between you and the keyboard DEMANDING URGENT ATTENTION.
The problem with Life is that it’s often too cluttered and you have to swim through that clutter and organise it before you find your way back to the blinking cursor that also requires your attention.
However, by the time you’ve found your way back to the page, you are often too tired to give it any of the love it deserves. All you can really do is yawn and dream of a warm bed kissed by the early spring sunshine. *yawn*