If I’m to be successful, I need to carve out time to write. The precursor to writing time is hours spent checking emails and social messaging. And I wonder where the time went and why I’m not being more productive. Even now, when I could be editing a story, I find myself catching up and complaining on my blog about how poor my use of time really is. This is frustrating. I want to be more productive, but don’t want to dedicate copious amounts of time to my writing works in progress. Hmm, why is that? I’m afraid of failure so I’ve stopped a great deal of forward motion in writing in order to catch my blog up. I know that once I finish editing this current work in progress that I’ll have to return to other works in progress. For two of them, okay so there are only two other works in progress meaning I haven’t finished them yet, I don’t know where the stories go. One I know should be a longer work, but I’ve run out of ideas for how to get the hero and heroine together. The other is a story about a Michigan logging camp that I haven’t done enough research. My writing right now is like a child dabbling in puddles after the rain when they could be jumping into the lake. I don’t want to jump into the lake. I want to stamp my feet and get my shorts wet until the mother comes and calls me in. There is no mother to call me in. I am on my own in this writing world. How lonely it is. Maybe I don’t want to feel the loneliness so I play at writing. Ouch! That hurt. I don’t think I’m playing at writing just because I am slowly making my way through a work in progress and am unpublished. Let’s begin again.
Okay, so I am working on my writing just slowly so as not to overwhelm myself. Maybe by this time next year I’ll be done with edits and will have finished the other two novels. I’ll keep my fingers crossed.