Taking a step back from myself to ponder. I haven't written anything more than a couple of synopsis's since I turned in a book on May 1st. It's now been two months of not writing. I haven't done this since... ever, I think. Since first getting published in 1997, I've written a minimum of two books a year while working a full-time day job. Some years more than two books. People that know me personally have heard me say many times that I wanted time off. That I was burned out. That I wanted to take a break and just read and do other things.
So I have. Even though I've been incredibly busy since May 1st, what with closing the office and all, and have some major travel lined up for this month and next, I've enjoyed the break. Sort of. I must confess, I've felt the occasional twinge to write and have actually kept my Alphasmart by the recliner so I could type whatever when the mood hit me. And I did.
But now I'm feeling serious withdrawal. And guilt. Such as - why didn't I take advantage of this time without a contract to do a serious proposal for my agent to shop with another publisher? I want to make a go of this writing full time gig, don't I? Then why have I been so lazy? Or was this - gasp - something I needed? Time off. Time to refill the creative well.
Maybe I'm just trying to excuse my uncharacteristic laziness, but I honestly think I needed this break. But it's time to call an end to it. Time to put my butt in the chair, my fingers on the keyboard, and get back into writing. I've brought the Alphasmart here into my new office - which I LOVE by the way - I'll post a picture soon - and plan to upload all the files and see what kind of stuff I've randomly written. See if anything germinates from a seed into a story. And in the meantime, avoid the blistering heat outside.
Wish me luck!