I’m regretting that.
I have to find new motivation to write again. I have such a backlog of books waiting for publication that the hurry is gone. I have to remind myself that it really was never there, that I always invented deadlines so I could force myself to write. It is how I do it. Being busy paid for itself in that I was doing the work, being what I wanted to be.
Now my life has changed. I’m in leadership at the LUW, I have an agent to query for me, I spend lots of time teaching and with new accolades and many titles I have new and constant promotional duties. And I still have all those books waiting their turn.
It hasn’t suffered long; only about a month, but for me, since I got into this feeling the reaching hand of death and the end of my days (aka bucket-list #1), this delay is inexcusable.
Luckily, another bucket-list event is happening this weekend. I am hosting having and participating in an actual writers retreat. The Infinite Monkey Writing Retreat by name. The first of many I hope. We’ve rented a HUGE house up the canyon by a reservoir with enough beds for 20 of my new closest friends with the intention and directive and motivation to write!
Or I’ll cry.
I’ll cry anyway. I’m a writer. I always cry. I’ll cry on paper if I can, otherwise, I’ll just cry more.
No two of my books have ever been written the same way. As I slide into this new work in progress, CORONAM 2: OF CIVILIZED, SAVED, AND SAVAGES, this will be a new way and it should work. It’ll motivate me at a time when I’m slowing down in other areas (a bit) for the holidays and Nanowrimo is happening on its heals.
Productivity here I come!
Or I’ll cry.