Yesterday was a fluke. I won't lie. I promised myself writing would be a "treat" for me, once I got this whole house unpacked.
Then, yesterday happened. Got Hubby off to NYC for the week. Went to church. Came back home, assessed all the stuff I need to do this week, and told myself:
"You deserve the day off from unpacking."
And I did just that. I did exactly what I wanted to do, which was NOT unpack. I took a Sunday nap, (love those!) and when I woke up, I came down to the office and sat in front of my computer. Pulled up the story I was working on before we moved. Read some. Got lost in it. Started typing. And typing. And when I looked up a few hours later, it was dinnertime, and I'd written all the words out that had been locked up in my head for so many weeks.
I was reluctant to make dinner. But my boys (bless them for giving me space so I could write) were hungry. We had dinner. We hung out. They went to bed. I sat back at the computer.
I edited the scene I just wrote, until it felt right. It was midnight before I was ready for bed.
Unfortunately for me, I woke up this morning in the world of my characters. I am no longer estranged with them. I want to tell their story. They WANT me to tell their story. But I have to unpack. I gave myself a day, and now, it's back to business. But next week, when my self-imposed deadline expires and the house is unpacked, I WILL write more. I will get back on the computer and keep the story going.
It's good to be back.
Then, yesterday happened. Got Hubby off to NYC for the week. Went to church. Came back home, assessed all the stuff I need to do this week, and told myself:
"You deserve the day off from unpacking."
And I did just that. I did exactly what I wanted to do, which was NOT unpack. I took a Sunday nap, (love those!) and when I woke up, I came down to the office and sat in front of my computer. Pulled up the story I was working on before we moved. Read some. Got lost in it. Started typing. And typing. And when I looked up a few hours later, it was dinnertime, and I'd written all the words out that had been locked up in my head for so many weeks.
I was reluctant to make dinner. But my boys (bless them for giving me space so I could write) were hungry. We had dinner. We hung out. They went to bed. I sat back at the computer.
I edited the scene I just wrote, until it felt right. It was midnight before I was ready for bed.
Unfortunately for me, I woke up this morning in the world of my characters. I am no longer estranged with them. I want to tell their story. They WANT me to tell their story. But I have to unpack. I gave myself a day, and now, it's back to business. But next week, when my self-imposed deadline expires and the house is unpacked, I WILL write more. I will get back on the computer and keep the story going.
It's good to be back.
