Today’s blog post is supposed to be all about the writing life, but here’s the hard truth: I don’t have a productive writing life right now, and I won’t in the foreseeable future, either. That doesn’t mean I’ve given up on my dream … far from it. Writing is part of who I am, not just something I do.
But to be a writer, you have to write.
I write…maybe…1K a week. 2K if I’m on a roll. Zero if I’m not. My current WIP is a different kind of romance than my usual books (no kink!) and I write on it whenever I have the time and the energy. But when you look at producing an average of 1K a week and add it up, it could take me a full year to finish the story.
Setting the literary world on fire, I am not.
But life has its plans, and right now, writing can only be a tiny part of mine. I’m not even going to recite the litany of why (you’ve all heard it, and I’m tired of talking about it!) but I refuse to give writing up completely, because I need to write like I need to breathe. Small breaths, maybe, but breaths nonetheless.
I became a planner-ish person this year. I have one. I use the calendar…sort of. But I use one of the sections even more —one that’s for notes for other books I want to write. The last book in a series I’ve already started. A stand-alone story with a twist. An idea I have for a new hot contemporary series. A potential revisit to Bondage & Breakfast. I have some pages in that section for random notes about…well, anything that sparks an idea. I also keep a “note” for ideas in my phone, which I always have with me.
So maybe I need to revise my earlier statement. I do still have a writing life. It’s just a really, really, REALLY slow-paced one. But even slow, you can still reach the…..