What I didn’t like about 2012…
My attitude. My laziness. My lack of progress with a book I’ve been intermittently staring at for nearly 2 years?!!
Okay, so I’m mad at myself.
I built a writing career on writing at least two books a year. I haven’t finished a book in two years.
Big change, huh? I’ve slacked so much trying to ‘find my new direction’ (a poor excuse) that I forgot where that career came from. Really.
I hate every bleeding second of this. It’s always riding my spine, and my brain.
I own it.
I put myself in this place. After writing thirty seven books non-stop for 20 years I wanted a break. I was burned out. Brain scorched.
Yet said break was simply too long and I walked too far away. It’s coming back. Mostly due to the fact that I’m not entrenched in that wonderful time called menopause and the drugs male doctors throw at you like it’s candy. Honestly, a valium would have done the trick.
Digging out of it isn’t easy. Especially when I’m uninspired.
Then the confidence wanes and my knee jerk is start reading a lot of how-to books. That’s my confidence needing a boost and the how-to books remind me that yes, I am a writer and I have the skills. It’s a stall tactic on my part.
Because the books lined up on a shelf weren’t enough of a clue.
I get it. I still don’t like it but I get it.
And the story I can’t seem to finish…? I’m revising so I will love it again.