The Bliss Found in NOT Writing

Holy Mary, Mother of Meatballs. Didn't realize it has been a full two months since the last time I posted. Apparently I needed a good long break from writing. And boy howdy, did I take a break!

I've hardly written a thing since March. I started a story, but haven't finished it. I just reached a point where I didn't have the energy or the desire. My brain wanted to move on to other things I had neglected, such as playing guitar and making mini teddy bears. I had new routines to learn, which means practicing and teaching, which means lots of exercise. Lots. It really is impossible to do all the things we want to and need to in the time we have as humans.

So I decided a guilt-free break was in order. Much as it killed me to fall behind two months in Write 1 Sub 1, I felt I needed to give over to this desire to do things other than write.

Some writers give excuses for this. I noticed writer's block is a common one.

No excuse for me. I simply ... didn't want to write.

I can hear other writers howling at this statement. They would tell me, "That means you really don't want to make it in the writing business!"

In a way, they're right. I don't. Well, not in the traditional sense of being the next J. K. Rowling or Stephanie Meyer. I don't have those kinds of unrealistic aspirations.

All I want to do is entertain people. I like to sing, dance, write, make gifts that delight the receivers. If I become famous and rich while doing such things, all right then. I'll accept that.

But I don't expect it in any way, shape, or form.

And who knows? Maybe in a few years I'll look back on this entry and do some howling myself. "What was I thinking? Why, oh, why didn't I just plunk my butt in the chair and apply my fingers to the keyboard every single day like I did most of 2011?"

Well, here's one reason:

I made this little guy during that time. :)

Last year was intense. Doing Write 1 Sub 1, I think I produced more in that year than in all the other years combined that I've ever written something. I was full steam ahead, and I got twelve stories published, something I never dreamed would actually happen.

And then I crashed. My steam turned into a dribble of water. And that, too, dried up.

I admit, part of it might have to do with the next blog post I'm going to write about. I've been avoiding it because I was so angry about what happened, I couldn't think about it and not have my blood pressure rise.

I'm ready now to write about it, and so with a deep breath, I leap back into the writing fray. I will do my best to lay out all the facts and not put a fiction writer's spin on it to make it more interesting.

After all, sometimes truth is stranger than fiction, yes? ;)