We’ve all been there, had to go without something all day, and because of that, we felt naked. Naked without your wedding rings, or maybe, you just wore a shirt that makes you feel naked because it requires constant ‘adjustment’.
Well, I am feeling naked right now. Not because I have forgotten something (and I hope I don’t forget anything on my jaunt to meet a friend for lunch today) but because I have not written or edited in days.
Bad, bad author. Bad writer. Yes, I know.
While my third book, Exposing Dallas, is being reviewed by my editor, I had begun the sequel to ED. I wrote about 40 pages in three or four days. When I want to write, I can write, boy. But I’ve been in a funk where I feel like I don’t want to bother writing the sequel (or even editing Exposing Dallas with the first 1/3 of the book’s notes) until I know whether or not she likes the book. I know I can’t base my book’s success on one person’s critique, but it is also an important one. So I hold a lot of stock in it.
The worry has robbed me of my will to write this past week. This blog is about all I’ve done. At least it’s something, and heck, I have gone months without writing or editing before. But having two projects in the works and doing nothing for them is unlike me.
So, without my writing, without my insatiable need to create my fictional worlds into which I escape, I feel naked. I feel like I am missing an important part of myself right now. Yes, I have the important job of taking care of my daughter, the actual reason I am a stay at home mom now, but I miss writing through nap times.
I sure hope I get positive feedback so that this funk lifts. In the meantime I am trying to keep myself busy. Of course, keeping a blog, marketing two novels, following the blogs of others, operating a Facebook Fan Page, and many other things keep me busy. But they’re definitely not as fun as writing.