I finished editing my YA novella on Thursday, so I decided to give myself Friday ‘off’. I went for a walk, did my washing and then read for a bit. That took me to 11am. I went out and took a lot of photos of different insects on the sedum in my garden (they love it), then I checked emails and paid bills. That took me to midday. Then I was lost.
It felt wrong to not even be thinking about a story. As much as I may only be spending a couple of hours at the computer (on the days I’m not working), I realise how much writing infiltrates the rest of my day. It’s as if a little part of my brain is always dedicated to working out a writing problem. And when it doesn’t have such a task set, it feels empty, which in turn makes me feel anxious.
As much as I sometimes bang on about chucking it all in, I really don’t think that is an option for me. I don’t think it is an option for any writers. So I’ve started my next project; another YA novel, but I think this one is going to go a bit dark. I have returned to the day job after all.
P.S. Here are some of the visitors to the sedum…