Wednesday, September 05, 2012
Of Unexpected Intermissions, Getting Back on the Metaphorical Horse and Other Oddments
Life happens. I could leave this entry at that. Full disclosure: part of me would like to. I'm two dances behind on what should have been a week-long series of posts, behind two whole episodes of SYTYCD, and wth happened to Saturday at the Movies? Plus all of those writing and reading posts that need to be up here, yeah, behind on those.
So why not throw hands up in air, say I'm too far gone to fix things and slink away (preferably to a gallon of Cherry Garcia and a rewatch of Moonlight?) I've thought about that, too. Would I like some cheese with my whine? Yes, I would, thank you; a nice Swiss, with some lean ham, on rye, with mustard, toasted the tiniest tad, would be great. Yes, life happens to everybody, she's been this route before, and may be this way again. That's part of the territory. The trick is how to respond to it.
Have I found the perfect solution? Not yet. Though I will be teaching an online workshop, Save the Writer, Save the Book, with longtime writing friend, Melva Michaelian, in October. More on that later. Right now, the important thing is to get this post up because A) it's on my list, B) I could use the advice myself, and C) to quote my mother, the more you do, the more you'll want to do.
Saying "I'm tired" is not a sign of weakness. It's a statement of fact. Look at it this way; how far could you drive the best car in the world, without refilling the tank? Those of us who write and read historical romance know that no matter how eager our characters are to get from point A to point B, they are going to have to stop and change horses because the beasties can only take so much. Plus it affords the opportunity for inn scenes. I like inn scenes.
I also like historical romance. No, scratch that. I love it, and making sure I take in things I love is essential to my well being as a writer and a person. Which is why, a couple days ago, in the midst of a morning where my attention was needed here, there and everywhere (or so it seemed) I hunkered down on the couch with an afghan (yay for cool mornings) and read a chapter of The Perfect Scandal by Delilah Marvelle. Best thing I could have done for myself at the moment. I am now carrying it in my purse because I am one chapter away from the end and reading feels good, and if I have to shut myself in a public bathroom stall to get my dose during today's multitude of errands, so be it.
How do you find time to nurture your creative self when life happens?