*Deeeeeeep breath*

That felt good.

I made a mistake last month. I put down my pen.

Now, admittedly, I was on vacation, and - as mentioned before - I find it really hard to work (at writing) while on vacation. I managed to scribble out a couple of pages during an hour spent alone up in the Redwood forests of Santa Cruz, but that was the last thing I did for over 30 days.

You see, I'd already been distracted before I left town. I had fallen off of my productivity wagon, but I still had enough gumption to get out there at least once a week and get some work done, whether it was typing, editing, or finishing this mother-effing book that despite my best efforts refuses to conform to category length.

Then, when I returned to town, a full two weeks later, my life fell apart. Not in any way I'm willing to share with the world (also known as the four people who occasionally read this blog), but in a real and measurable way anyway. Would that my life were a romance script. The knight on his white horse would have swooped in to the rescue a good two weeks ago. Alas, the real world ain't that pretty.

It's been a tough time and I've had to make some hard as hell decisions about who I am and what I expect of the people around me and life in general. It doesn't help that I've always been a cerebral type girl and can think myself into dizzying circles with very little assistance from the outside world. It also doesn't help that I'm unemployed and have nothing to distract me from my over-active brain. Basically I have all the time in the world to stew, and fret, and worry my pretty little head into a tizzy. And I have taken full advantage of it.

I've been so anxious that getting a full night's sleep has become a rarity. Four hours is the norm, then it's up and at 'em to fret some more. I've still been reading - though not as much. My Sudoku habit has become outrageous, but it's a great way to not think when you're awake anyway. And I've been reading about writing on a few blogs and such (I was 800 posts behind by the time I got back to my blogs, I'm down to 365 posts now). Still absorbing the "rules," still reading the publishing stories... but I haven't written a lick.

I could have. If I'd just sat down and done it, I would have found the words waiting for me, and I would have been happier for it. If nothing else it would have taken my mind off of my problems. More than that I would have taken refuge in the natural joy I find in the simple act of creation. But because I couldn't concentrate on anything else, I assumed I wouldn't be able to concentrate on my work either, so I didn't even try.

This morning, however, I woke up and was granted a small ray of hope that all this turmoil would soon be gone. That short moment was enough. I started thinking about other things again and then tried to remember the last time I left the house just for fun. I couldn't. I went out for a job interview on Thursday, but before that...? Ummmm...? Sad. Really sad.

So, me and my fresh new attitude grabbed my purse and keys and walked the hell out the door. I went to Chili's for ribs and took a book with me and my notebook too, just in case the writing bug was ready to bite me again. It did. Thank God. My characters were waiting for me, my pen was still speaking to me and I even stopped at Krispy Kreme on the way home. I got over 1000 words written this afternoon and damn it felt good.

I'm a writer, what the hell did I think I was doing putting down my pen for so long? I won't do that to myself again. It's back on the horse for me.





Just finished: The Bachelor's Stand-In Wife
Just finished: Agnes and The Hitman
Just finished: Smooth Talkin' Stranger
Currently reading: D is for Deadbeat
Currently Reading: Tempting The Beast