The past several weeks have been a bit of a bitch. Freelance assignments (for which I'm soooo grateful) piled on and left me feeling very work-weary. And then I took on another magazine assignment that qualified as being the longest one I think I'd ever written for publication. I wrapped it up last night, emailed it to my niece for her expert opinion and printed it out (which I never do), so I could read it on the page. My son, home for spring break, graciously read it, too. I let it marinate overnight and read it with fresh eyes this morning. After a couple tweaks, I sent it off.
Now, I face a couple more writing assignments that need my attention but not my immediate attention. So, this afternoon I'll make a quick run to the tile warehouse and carpet supplier to choose some products my contractor is waiting on. But what I really want to do is write. Write for me. Write on my novel, which I hesitate to admit aloud because I feel every one around me is tired of hearing about it. It shouldn't take so long to finish a book, should it?
|The morning Texas sky|
But sometimes it does. Sometimes work and kids and obligations become priorities and not excuses. And my life right now is about taking advantage of writing that pays in lieu of writing that might pay. I also feel I need to balance time away from the computer, connecting with people and getting away. So my calendar has a lunch with a friend planned for next Monday, a media weekend away (but I can take my girl) starting next Friday and a media tour to California wine country (just me!) the day after we return.
So, life is full. Life should be full and finding the time to make connections away from the computer are essential for me and hopefully my writing. Who would want to read a novel about a woman who sat all day in her jammies, tapping away at the keyboard? Not I! It's time to get out.