Fiction, Motivation, Writing

Still trying to find my way back

I feel as if I’m drifting in a small boat through the fog, drowsy, picking up snatches of muffled conversation as I pass by. But in reality the boat has docked. The fog has cleared. So why can’t I wake up? Quick, someone slap me.

Little did I know when I took a break to prepare for Christmas that it would be so hard to get back to work. Even with a painful back (now on the mend) I should be able to wrap my brain around putting one word after another. The spirit is willing, but the mind is weak.

I opened my WIP last night and read through it, but didn’t add anything. It’s not even that I don’t know what scene comes next because I do, several scenes in fact. I’m not discouraged, or blocked, just scatter-brained.

That goes for social media too. I open Twitter, but nothing comes to mind to say. Ditto for Google+. For a few minutes, I lurk, reading what others have to say, and then leave. I can’t even think of anything worthy to say on my Facebook page.

Maybe I need more sleep. Or less caffeine. I need something, that’s for sure. I’m trying not to listen to that voice that’s whispering that maybe this is it. I’ll never write again. *sigh*

I know you’re better disciplined. It’s probably been easy for you to get back to work. And since we’re on the topic, what are you working on exactly?

Photo: The Lady of Shalott by William A. Breakspeare (1872-1903).

Fiction, Humor, My Books, Novel, Real Life, Social Media, Writing

I’m not undisciplined, I’m just a writer!

Yesterday my husband took dragged me out to lunch. It should have been an easy bribe—an offer of food I don’t have to shop for, prepare, or clean up from—but I’ve been entrenched in formatting my novel for CreateSpace.

I confess, I tend to get hyper-focused. Actually, I suspect I have Attention Deficit Disorder. I’ve often described myself as undisciplined, but that’s not true. I’m only undisciplined with things I don’t want to do anyway. Controlled chaos. Selective laziness.

I want to write; therefore my fingers can become glued to the keyboard. Literally. Well, almost. I often snack while working, so sometimes my fingers are sticky. If you’re a neat freak, you don’t want to look at my computer … or my workspace in general. You might feel the urge to send pictures to one of those Hoarders shows.

All kidding aside (ahem) I’ve gathered from Twitter that I’m not the only obsessed writer. I see you tweet about forgetting to walk the dog or start dinner or change out of your pajamas—for days. I remember seeing an old movie about a man obsessed with writing … or painting … or inventing … whatever. Someone who cared about him brought food trays to him, but they stacked up outside his door, untouched.

It’s a good thing I have a husband who insists on being fed daily or I might waste away. Ha! Who am I kidding? I’d find one of those food tray delivery services. Oh wait! I already have one. It’s called Me ‘n’ Ed’s Pizza. Don’t worry about me. I’m good. But if any of you want to bring me a tray, my door’s not locked. Just push the empty teacups, coke cans, and chip bags aside.


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