“So are you writing another one?”
I think about my latest novel, the one I’ve been working on since Christmas. The one I was so inspired to write that I wrote a whole chapter in a morning.
“Yes,” I reply as something knots inside me.
Did I keep the guilt out of my voice?
You see, that story, the one I was, and am, so enamoured with has not had a single word added to it for four months.
My reasons for not writing are myriad – editing someone else’s book, kids, renovations, work, needing a break, chronic fatigue (damn you Epstein-Barr virus), not having large enough blocks of time to make writing worthwhile, promoting Incite Insight.
I know I need to stop making these reasons equate to excuses. It’s not ok that I’m not writing. I need to make the time and I know I’ll be happier if I do. At the moment though, I can’t see that happening for another month and a half, when my home renovations are done, work has settled down and the editing is complete.
You’re doing it again.
Yes, yes I am.