Whew! I’m glad I got that out. I’ve been holding it in for a while and it’s just been eating at me.
What’s this, you say? She’s not a writer? But she’s writing. She must be a writer. She manages a writing blog.
Well, what I mean to say is that I’m not a writer right now. This past couple of weeks has down a number on me and when I finally come in to wind down, I’m so tired writing is the farthest thing from my mind. Nope, I have not written much of anything other than a blog post. Or maybe two.
See, right now I’m a farmer. Waterer. Berry picker. Weeder. I’m out all day and when I come in, writing is not really what I want to be doing. Heck, I’m not even reading much.
Now that being said, while I might not be writing, in the classical sense of the word, I still write. How? In my head. The things I work on require little thought, so while spending 4 hours picking raspberries, my mind has time. Lots of time to think. So I spend it writing in my head. Playing out scenarios and characters. Connecting plots, though that is still a challenge, and trying to congeal certain things into something more formed.
Since being busy like this, I have actually been able to connect all my characters of my several ‘books’ so that they are linked, since that is one thing I love about certain other writers. I love reading one book, going on to the next by the same author and having a link of some sort to the characters. And I’m not talking just a series, but random stories that are linked.
I do attempt to sit down and write it down somewhere so that I have an idea of where my thoughts have gone, so yes, I am writing in that sense. My journal has been getting a fair amount of action in the scope of things, but actual stories? Nada. And nothing on letters and agents.
I think for me, summer is not the time to write. So what’s my excuse for all the rest of the year?