A couple weeks ago I went and gave myself a big pat on the back for writing so much this year. Look at me, I was like, I'm so amazing at this. And, honestly, I am a little proud of what I did. That was a pretty stellar year one for writing, and I don't think I have to apologize for that. Maybe, I dunno. I'm full of doubt about it, if you can't tell.
Anyway, after all that patting myself on the back, I'm now behind schedule. Its because of the strange dichotomy of the modern writer. I've been spending time writing articles and other things to try to make some extra money and to get my name out there. Its also great practice for writing and ways to continue to get better.
A lot of time lately has been spent trying to make myself into a better known writer rather than actually a better writer. Time spent pitching to new magazines and websites I haven't been published on before, trying to build myself up on social media, all that jazz. The result has been falling behind and resting on my laurels. I can see the novel that has been waiting, not so patiently, for me to sit down and finish the damn thing. I'm seeing the value of what Stephen King has said about not letting a story sit too long. I can still hear the character voices and I know the direction the story needs to go, but each hour spent writing is less productive than it was before the break. I've got to power through it and get back to work.
So, that's what I'm going to do. Back to work, into the salt mines, nose to the grindstone and a lot of other cliches. Ta for now!