I am a better, happier person when I write every day.
And the only way I’m going to write every day is to go directly to my writing room (with computer sans internet) after taking Louise out to do her duty and fixing myself a cup of coffee.
Even if I only have an hour to write before the day officially starts, I feel grounded, whole. I don’t second-guess myself.
Is the novel any good? Even if it’s fabulous, what are the odds of being able to sell it? Even if it sells, it’s just going to get tossed out there with a million other books to sink or swim--and it’ll sink.
I don’t think the fate of my novel in the world when I’m actually writing it. Living inside it is enough. And I need being inside a world completely my own at least part of every day to be able to live in the real world with some measure of balance and grace.
So why do I let myself get overwhelmed by real-world obligations to the extent that I say to myself, okay, I absolutely have to get…whatever…done. I’ll write tomorrow.
And keep on saying it, sometimes for weeks at a time, until I get so whacked out that I finally go to my writing room and write.
Like I did this morning. Finally.
After which, everything seemed possible.