So, school is out, camps not yet started, end-of-year shenanigans completed (5 teacher gifts, 3 crossing guard gifts, countless end-of-year party donations, 1 full day chaperoning…someone hand me a drink). I have, I confess, dropped every ball I was juggling except for the ones that were either, 1) flaming (and thus required my attention, or 2) were desperately urgent. This means that everything from the electric bill to wordage on the YA Paris book to revisions have all gone untouched. And now, in the quiet that follows the storm, I’m clueless of how to pick back up again. Especially the writing. I can’t seem to figure out what I want.
This is me lately:
Yes, much like this kitten (but far less adorably) I seem to be spending my days chasing my tail around, certain that it’s a valuable pursuit, only to discover that it’s not moving me forward as much as I hoped. So what does the non-feline. writerly version of this look like?
Or even THIS: (It’s research, dammit! I swear I’m not just looking at pictures of Paris because…oh fine. Yeah, I’m just looking at pictures of Paris because.)
(This is Rue Mouffetard. My old street and possibly one of the very best marchés in all of Paris. Le sigh.)
Anyway, what I’m not doing ANY of is writing. And I miss it.
I recently had a fascinating conversation with a child psychologist about how video games are serving the purpose that recreational drugs used to serve for disaffected kids. The games provide the same feeling of relief, of a better world, of success (regardless of its lack in real life). She discussed how satisfying these games were to kids, and how difficult it was for them to find life outside the games equally enriching. As I think about the fascinating blogs I follow, the witty conversations on Twitter, the vital relationships I sustain in cyberspace, I have to wonder how much the internet is my drug of choice. That’s not to say there’s no value to online social media. Writing is lonely and can be isolating. I’ve found amazing critique partners, great friends, loads of information about agents and publishers, and an incredible wall of support – all online. But what I haven’t found there? My revisions or my next novel.
So I think I need to try cutting waaaaay back. Facebook can live without me. Twitter (where I mostly stalk others) I’ll just avoid. And even my amazing online friends…well, maybe I’ll check in at the end of the day and report to them how many words I wrote. As for this blog? I’ll be back sometime soon. Just hopefully after I’ve finished revisions or written a few chapters.