I’ve sort of been absent and silent on the Internet lately.
Oh, I’ve been on (a little) but I haven’t been commenting (much).
People who know me know that I’m not just a writer. I own a business, and we’re in the middle of our bread and butter season, meaning a 12 hour work day is not unheard of. I have a house which is currently undergoing renovations – let’s just say the dust bunnies are multiplying faster than the real bunnies. I have a yard in sore need of weeding. I have children – yes, they are grown, but they have problems of monolithic proportions. I’m married to a man who is not the healthiest person on earth and I can’t get him to make a follow up doctor’s appointment re: his Christmas Eve pulmonary embolism.
So in the face of a rainstorm of lemons, my writing has kinda-sorta taken a back seat.
Except for participating in Christina Katz’s 21 Moments Challenge (since February) and goading my ED for Life regarding the edit to my sequel to Virtually Yours, I haven’t been writing as per usual.
I’ve been writing, but not in a linear projection.
I’ve filled a notebook with pencil scribblings, a page and a half or so each day. A moment here, a moment there. I’ve been using my angst over certain situations as fuel. I have dissected my broken heart and used words to describe the agony, 500 words and 20 minutes at a time. I’ve written passages specifically meant for works in progress. (Good Lord, there are a LOT of them.)
Writing in this way is not advised. I prefer to have chunks of time (at least three hour blocks) dedicated to fleshing out my stories. However, I’m giving myself a one-time pass for using the patchwork tactic. Partially because it seems to be working, and partially because I *think* there may be a light at the end of the tunnel.
In the meantime, I have a notebook of moments, scenes, dialogue, sketches, rants, that I can draw upon later.
After all, summer’s almost over. When I finally snag an afternoon of solitude, I’ll be prepared.